Reaching Out
by EQJS
Summary: Sarah reaches out to an unlikely member of the Gibbs team when she's reached a difficult place in her life. Her actions have more of an impact then she ever imagined. Contains some self-violence and vulgar language.
1. Prologue: Don't Slip a Stitch

Prologue: Don't Slip a Stitch

"Tim, you are misconstruing my words." She leaned her aching head onto the back of the well-worn couch in her apartment.

"How the hell do you misconstrue the words 'I told her to do it'!" he barked in return. Her head shot off the back of the couch and she glared at him.

"You don't Timmy, but you do misconstrue me!"

"Abby don't you pull this shit right now. You have no idea…"

"I have no idea what," she hissed through her teeth. Her tone gave him pause and he looked into her eyes. Surprise smacked him in Gibbs' absence when he saw the unshed tears glistening.

"Abs," he attempted, his tone softer, regret washing his words with a calm he didn't feel.

"I have no idea, what," she ground out louder. He'd rarely heard her voice drop to such depths and wondered if there was a way to keep this from really blowing up in his face.

"I'm sor…"

"No you don't get to make yourself feel better by saying sorry! I haven't done anything wrong! She came to me and I tried to help her! Have you ever talked to your sister like a human? She's scared and she's hurt Timmy, not that you understand these things…"

"Abs that is not fair!"

"Fair! What the fuck in life is fair?" He had never seen her this upset before. The unshed tears were glistening even brighter and her emotions seemed completely out of control. Her volume rose again.

"No answer? C'mon Timmy, surely there is an answer in one of your manuals somewhere!" He blushed crimson. This was not Abby. His Abby would never say those things to him, would not judge his character so harshly; condemn him to a simple category of human.

"I never said you didn't try…" he started again, much quieter and on his guard. There was no way that this argument could end well.

"I know you didn't because you couldn't! You couldn't say it because you are not a liar and you know that that would have been one big fugly lie!" she stood from the couch and kicked the coffee table over, her half consumed Caf-Pow leaking gently onto the wooden floor. Tim stopped moving.

"Abby," he whispered, his voice low to match hers, "please sit down, you're going to…"

"You know you are some kind of investigator. Did you even think to ask any of the important questions? You should have said, 'Abs why is my kid sister calling you at all these weird hours?' 'Hey Abby, why do you keep coming into work looking like shit?' How about the big, 'Abs why is my sister calling you at all!' I will not sit down Timmy until you at least look at me and stop co…" she caught her breath. She knew it would only be so long before she ripped a stitch. Her pride allowed her to make no real sounds for the pain only to grab the area and apply pressure while she bit her lip. McGee was off the couch and at her side in an instant.

"Abby…"

"It's all right I'll take care of it," she muttered as she stormed angrily into the bathroom. He heard every bottle that she picked up fall into the sink and knew that her hands were shaking out of rage and exhaustion. When he hadn't heard anything in the bathroom for a few moments he chanced a knock on the door. No sooner had his knuckles brushed the surface did the door open and Abby tumble out into his waiting arms. He sighed heavily as he heaved her up and carried her to bed. To his dismay he saw the trail her tears had used when she'd retreated into solitude. McGee mentally smacked himself and prayed that he could start that whole conversation over in the morning. For the time being he tucked her in and went to wait in her living room. His socked feet found the mess from earlier on his way back to the couch, so he righted the living room with the previous conversation swirling around in his head. Mess cleaned, he took out his cell and dialed his sister to start another conversation he had been dreading.

"Hello?" came over the line, slightly jumbled. He realized it was 2 in the morning and though that shouldn't have been a problem for a college student, he knew that it was a time when normal people slept and mentally cursed himself for his bad timing…again.

"I'm sorry, I should've…" he stuttered wanting to hang up the phone; already regretting his bravery.

"Timmy? No, don't hang up!" she almost pleaded with him over the phone. Instantly he held the phone tighter.

"What's wrong?" She could hear the panic in his voice and she felt stupid for putting it there.

"No it's not like that I just, don't hang up. Is Abby…is she..."

"She's all right, nothing we can't handle. What were you…"

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry Tim. I just couldn't deal with anything and I needed something…"

"Where are you?"

"In my dorm. Can I come and see you?"

"Of course, I'm…"

"You better end that with Abby's apartment."

"…in Abby's apartment," he conceded, a small smile playing around on his lips.

"Good. I will meet you there."

"Wait!"

"Yea?"

"I'll come get you."

"Tim, I am…" she began.

"Sarah, please." Sarah was once again ashamed that she was putting this kind of strain on her relationship with her brother and bowed her head over the phone.

"I'll be waiting by the door." He heard the click of the phone and slowly placed his own phone down by his side. This was going to be a long night.

This is my first attempt at NCIS fanfiction. I'm really not sure if I'll continue this, but this little plot bunny wouldn't stop harassing me! Let me know if it keeps the attention!


	2. Chapter 1: Boredom and Secrets

8:00a.m. That Morning

The whole Navy Yard had been quiet for the last week. Many people had developed theories but the most common seemed to be the simple time of the season. It was that strange period between November and December when people were too busy to commit petty crimes and were really spending their time gearing up for the outlandish crimes. McGee yawned at his computer, the monotony of the day already threatening to bore him to tears as he slogged through the bits and pieces of another cold-case that Gibbs' team had been assigned. He knew life was being cruel when he found himself wishing for some dry paperwork to fill out in place of re-working tired and tried evidence. Had he really only been at work for forty-five minutes? DiNozzo had sauntered in just as reluctantly as McGee had managed. He took his time removing his jacket and arranging his desk; his fiddling only stopped when he caught his reflection in the lenses of his sunglasses. He smiled broadly at himself.

"Damn Tony!" he beamed to no one in particular.

"Damn indeed Tony. How can you look like that when you've just awoken? "Ziva huffed as she hurried to her desk before it got any later.

"Or so close to breakfast?" McGee added.

"Oh har har Probie, come up with that all by yourself?" Tony defended as he shot a paper ball at Tim's head.

"Children…" Gibbs warned as he caught the ball while getting to his desk.

"Boss there has got to be something to do today besides sifting through all this crap," Tony whined as he lay back in his chair.

"Already outta paperwork DiNozzo?" Gibbs responded dryly.

"Two days ago."

"_Damn, kid must be bored_," Gibbs mused. He sighed as he mimicked Tony and leaned back in his chair too.

"I know you guys want something to do about as badly as I do, but maybe this break will help us refine our tools for being better agents," he read from a memo from the director that he'd just spotted on his oddly immaculate desk.

"What?" DiNozzo quipped.

"Is this a note for a labor store?" Ziva asked, eyes slightly enlarged in terror. Workshops were dreaded things at any workplace. DiNozzo sat and worked 'labor store' around in his mouth for a while.

"No it's not a workshop. The director must be as bored as we." They continued much in this manner for the rest of the morning. All took an extended lunch and begrudgingly returned to the office. There they repaired another old case and prepared the evidence for Abby to retest. Ziva, McGee, and DiNozzo offered to walk the evidence to the lab as it would give them a chance to get out of their seats for something other than dawdling to the head and back. Gibbs smirked inwardly and told them to divide the load so they wouldn't strain themselves. The three bounced gleefully to the elevators like a stampede of giddy foals… or elephants.

"Abby!" Ziva shouted over the music as soon as the elevator doors opened.

"We've presents!" McGee added. They trailed into the lab and found everything in place except for the lab's mistress.

"I wonder where…"

"Hey guys! What can I do for you?" Abby chirped as she emerged from her office. She cleared her throat for a moment when no one answered her.

"We brought some more evidence to re-evaluate," Ziva answered softly, her eyes never leaving the young woman's body. She took a step toward her examination table but stopped when she noticed that her three friends were not moving with her.

"What? Is there something in my teeth?" Abby asked as she felt their stares boring into her. The three shook themselves out of their stupor.

"No, no you just don't usually wear green and this might be the most color we've ever seen on you at one time," DiNozzo lied smoothly. Abby smiled widely.

"Thanks Tony! I picked it up at a swap meet not too long ago and I just finished making it much cooler," she boasted when she turned to show that she had "Bedazzled" an open mouthed "Dia de los Muertos" style skull with NCIS in the mouth over the back of the track jacket.

"That's very creative Abby," Ziva smiled as she patted her back. She felt the slightest flinch from the girl and though slightly startled, did not react in a distracting way. Ziva made a mental note to ask the goth about that later.

"So what did you bring me?" McGee took her through the evidence. Every so often his eyes would dart to her face and he would think a little harder on what could have possibly made her look so, dead. They chatted for another ten minutes before the three field agents reluctantly decided to go back to Gibbs.

"Go keep Gibbs company. He doesn't like to be alone," Abby pushed when they complained about the dullness and quietness of the office.

"Tony I just know that you can take your creative little mind and make it more interesting up there for a few more hours."

"This might be beyond my powers Abs." She handed him a whoopee cushion and a small water pistol from her locker.

"Use wisely," she said with enough seriousness to force smiles on their faces. Horns appeared on DiNozzo's head as he raced back to the elevators.

"Man I hope this water gun is ready for action!" He yelled. Ziva's eyes grew.

"Abby what have you done?" she laughed as she moved towards the elevators as well.

"Oh Tony, remember I can kill you without anyone finding your body!" she yelled after him. Tim turned to follow but stopped himself before he chickened out completely.

"Please don't be upset, but are you ok?" he asked gently. Abby looked at him with blank eyes.

"Why wouldn't I be…oh the makeup! Is it too much? A little overkill for work, huh?" she asked a smile resting on her lips. McGee really wanted to believe her. For now he decided to play along, knowing that she would let him know later when they were away from the prying eyes of friends and co-workers.

"Oh it's makeup. Very convincing," he drawled rather sarcastically. He could see that she was gearing up to explode at him but he watched the fire die just as quickly. She replaced her smile with a smirk and turned to the evidence table.

"I'm going to pretend to work now." With this, McGee nodded, gently rubbed her back, and went back to the office "pit."

Present Time

Tim sighed for the millionth time as he wove through the tight one-way streets of Sarah's college campus. He wondered why that little conversation in the lab this morning, or rather yesterday morning, felt like it had happened weeks ago. Nothing was adding up and his investigator's brain wanted to search for the clues, but his realistic brain just wanted the truth, quickly.

Sarah spotted his car from the door to her dorm and she walked lightly out to meet him.

"Hey Tim," she said weakly as she hopped into the car. The cold air trailed her inside, and for a moment he wondered if the cold was coming from her or the wind. Absently, he turned the heat up. He gently patted her knee and turned the car back toward Abby's apartment. The ride back was quiet and tense. The walk upstairs was no different and with each step Tim found himself dreading this conversation more and more. What could she possibly be so upset about? Why was his baby sister hurting so much? Why couldn't he do his job as big brother and help her?

"We have to stay quiet; Abby is asleep," he whispered as he unlocked Abby's door. Sarah nodded and followed him into the warmth. She smiled as she sat on the couch and tucked her feet under her.

"It still shocks me when I come in here. The door is so normal," she chattered nervously. Tim nodded.

"How many times have you been over here?" he asked, his investigator's brain starting to turn on.

"Tim, I didn't come here to be interrogated. I came here to clear Abby in your eyes. Everything is my fault."

"Don't say that, I'm sure that whatever happened…"

"No really, Abby is the victim here." Tim swallowed hard. How could they both be protecting each other so fiercely? When had he fallen so far out of the sphere? He closed his eyes and settled into the corner of the couch.

"What's wrong?" Sarah asked, confused by her brother's reaction. Where she thought he would question her more, he simply gave up.

"A lot is wrong here Sarah, but I don't know where to start. My sister is sitting here telling me that my girlfriend, at least I think she's my girlfriend, is a victim; she is saying the same about you. You look like you're not doing well and I'm worried. My girlfriend was stabbed tonight and is refusing actual medical care and for some reason I can't make her go to the hospital. Oh, and most importantly, I still have no idea what the fuck is going on." He really wanted to get worked up but the argument earlier had just taken the bite right out of him.

"I'm so, so sorry Timmy…what do you mean she didn't go to the hospital?" Sarah's eyes widened and she started to move off of the couch and towards Abby's room.

"It's ok, leave her to rest." Sarah turned to look at him as if he'd grown another head.

"The cut was shallow and she didn't lose much blood. We had a friend give her a few stitches and she is going to see another professional tomorrow."

"You're lying."

"What?"

"Look at me and tell me what happened again." She hissed; torn between panic and anger. Tim looked at the floor in front of him.

"Sarah it's under control. Please sit back down here and tell me what has been going on. I can't take the suspense any more." She took another step towards Abby's room and stopped.

"Can I just see if she's ok?" she whispered.

"Just be quiet." He responded just as quietly. Sarah slowly opened Abby's door and moved to look at the woman who had helped her so much over the semester. The woman she had tormented all semester. In the half light from the hallway she looked too young to be out of high school and too old for her own good. Sarah stared at her until she was sure that the woman was breathing. She was afraid to touch her but knew that if she didn't she wouldn't be able to calm herself and talk to Tim. Gently, she felt her forehead to check for fever and was relieved when her temperature felt normal. She returned to the living room as quietly as she'd left and sat in the other corner of the couch.

"Ok?" Tim asked.

"Me or Abby?"

"Both."

"Just peachy." More silence. He looked at the clock and wanted to punch it. How dare it read 3:15 in the morning.

"I suppose I could start at the beginning." Tim turned to look at his sister and made himself as comfortable as possible.

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**Wow, another chapter. This is a miracle in my book.**


	3. Chapter 2: Just One Drink

**Author's Note**

Well, after a really dry spell I think I've churned out something else. This chapter is a little long and dry, but I take a while to build things up. I'm trying to get the hang of this free, fiction writing. I'm used to straight forward non fiction reports and essays! If this chapter is really confusing, please let me know! I'm trying a different style and I don't know if I like it yet.

The italics are kind of a flashback. It seemed more fun to tell the story instead of a quick overview. I think the beginning of her flashback might be considered stream of consciousness. Don't worry; I won't stay on that route, it's confusing after a while!

Thank you so much to the wonderful people that have reviewed! It was so nice to open my inbox and read those encouraging notes! I will definitely try to get the next chapter out sooner; I think I might have a direction again! Thanks!!!!

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**C.2**

Sarah was nervous. How the hell had she let everything get so far out of her control. She wasn't like Tim; she could ride the uncertainty wave here and there, no worries. She even _liked_ the feeling of spontaneity occasionally, so why was this loss of her destiny grating on her nerves so harshly? It must have been because her loss was another's gain; her loss wasn't a controlled one, and by all means it was not a little loss. Another weary sigh escaped her as she looked pointedly at her brother. The wounds were lightly scabbed; the scars not yet permanent. How could she make him understand that she hadn't meant for this to happen? It was all her fault and yet, it wasn't her fault. How could she get him to help Abby when Abby sure as hell didn't want it? Why was this semester suddenly so much more complicated? Her head throbbed with the endless array of questions that bombarded her. It wasn't like she was unused to their presence; she just didn't need them right now when she had a whole new set of questions to play with.

Tim watched the inner anguish play out on her young face. After another few minutes of watching her grind her teeth, he reached out and gently patted her knee again.

"It's all right. You can tell me another time. We're both tired, why don't we just try to get some sleep and we can try this again tomorrow," he half-heartedly spoke. This lack of trust and rejection had never hurt this much from another person, except maybe Abby. When she didn't reply he made a move to get off of the couch but Sarah reached out and grabbed the back of his shirt.

"No!"

"What, what's wrong?" Tim asked on the verge of tears. This was dizzying and he was not so sensitive as to understand exactly what his sister wanted or needed right now. He just knew that this intense stillness, this undignified silence was killing him and he needed a moment to gather himself before he really did something he would regret. Sarah looked into her brother's face and saw that he was on the verge of his own mental "fit." She proceeded with some calming calculations in her head. If they went to bed now, he could get up to three hours of sleep and would then have to go to work confused and possibly dangerous. It was Thursday night, or Friday morning. Maybe she could convince him to not go to work for the rest of the day and simply work the weekend instead. That would suck. Maybe…

"Sarah did you know that you are going to give me a heart attack and be the cause of all my premature gray hairs?" Her eyes wondered up to her brother's again. He was standing beside her, his eyes full of questions and drowsiness, but his mouth was set in a slightly amused smirk.

"I'm worried about you," she answered truthfully. The smirk grew into a smile.

"I won't grace that with an answer. If you want to change the subject and…"

"No, I mean for work tomorrow. I don't think you should go because you've had a really rough night and morning." He wanted to be upset with her for worrying about him when she was obviously not in a good way, but he was pleased none the less that she still sounded like the caring, sweet little sister of which he'd always been proud.

"I will be fine. Occasionally, I can pretend I'm not ancient and pull an all-nighter." She nodded but didn't believe him.

"We should get you to bed though. Maybe a good night's sleep will improve your memory." Despite his fatigue, he looked at his sister and genuinely smiled. He meant the comment to lighten the mood and for once, it worked. She smiled back at him; resolve strengthened that whatever she told her brother, it just might be ok. Maybe she wasn't such a screw up and maybe, just maybe, he would be able to still love her after this ordeal. She had to try, if not for her sake, then for Abby and Tim's. Adrenaline slowly seeped through her veins and her previous tiredness melted away with her new will to get everything out into the open.

He knew he was tired when he could literally watch the play of emotions of his sister's face. He didn't deny that he was usually not quite up to par when it came to emotions and moods, so when he felt like he actually understood what his sister was thinking he was slightly shocked at himself. Maybe DiNozzo's method to reading women was not complete rubbish…maybe. He opened his mouth to reiterate the offer for sleep, but her hand came up and silenced him. She pulled on his hand and he sat beside her.

"I think I can say what I need to say because I know that you will listen and not judge me. I _know_ that you won't ask questions until I'm finished and you _won't_ call mom and dad as soon as I'm finished." She had meant this to sound somewhat inspirational but her desire to make her will be understood and her anxiety at having to recount the semester's troubling events made her words come out slightly harsher than she'd meant them to be; however, McGee did get the message. He resumed the position that he'd taken earlier and relaxed into the corner of the well-worn, black leather behemoth of a couch. He smiled at her again when she looked over and questioned his current state of being. Of course he was exhausted from having a full day of work on an actual case; working overtime because the code on the stupid drug dealer's palm pilot was a bitch to crack, and yes, when he'd finally gotten home at nine-thirty at night he'd had dreams of his shower and bed when his crazy girlfriend called his cell, and he found himself in the parking lot to who knows what warehouse, waiting for her to catch her ride home. There was also the fact that she came back with blood on her shirt; a lot of blood on her shirt and pants when he got her home and had helped her change into some pajamas. Oh and they'd fought a little. Other than that he was good, so he simply nodded his head; afraid of what would come out of his mouth. Sarah had used that sarcastic smirk and head nod so many times she's considered charging him usage rights, but she instead looked down at her hands and started talking.

"Well, it kinda started…actually, what I meant to say was that I…" she stopped. How in the hell was she going to tell him so much, in words? Where was the beginning?

"What happened when you went back to school?" Tim prompted. So much for not asking questions. Sarah nodded her head and began again.

"As you know, I took summer classes, both sessions. You know me; I like to get as much done as I can when it's the best time. I also moved out of the dorms and into my first apartment. Everything was going pretty close to planned, I had my friends, good grades, and a wonderful boy…schoolmate that helped me with everything. Then somewhere everything just kind of, unraveled…

_I sat in the back of the classroom thinking about the events of the night before. There had been yelling, screaming, and finally the loudest silence I'd ever encountered. Why wasn't I good enough for anyone anymore? Who the hell have I pissed off to make fate come at me with both fists flying? Stephen had been so…awesome. Why had he felt the need to cheat? Maybe if I had been a little more attentive to his needs and not ignored him when he was whining about this, that, and the other…was that my name? Oh, oh God, please don't let that be my name. The instructor is already a hard ass and I don't want him to add me to his list of idiots. There are heads turning towards me, so I guess that was my name. What is he saying? His lips are moving but I don't really understand the words that are coming out of his mouth. Shit. Maybe a sweet response is best._

"_I'm sorry, sir, can you please repeat the question?" That sounded nice, right? Actually, upon quick reflection, oh yea the question. Once again, it is gibberish. Maybe he's still talking about the stages of cell reproduction. That's what we went over yesterday, but that was yesterday. Maybe my notes will have the answer, I'll just… 'Why Stephen?' and doodles…shit. _

'_Meiosis,' sounded across the auditorium. Dr. Lomen's eyes roll back and he turns his head exasperated to the speaker. 'Mr. Williams, when I need you to answer a question, I'm going to ask you directly and not accidently call you Ms. McGee, ok?' So Stephen was trying to save me from big, bad Lomen. Won't work this time, boy toy. I am still going to be upset with you and we will not continue our perfect relationship. Mr. Lomen looked at me through his squinty, little eyes and went back to lecturing the class. So we were reviewing cell reproduction so that we could move onto the real subject of stem cell research. I knew this was a scientific ethics class after all. As soon as his lumbering voice went back into stride, I tried to take notes again. When he released the class I looked down at my notes to notice that I'd written a few mindless facts and a lot of doodles. Well, maybe Miranda would let me borrow her notes for the day. One more class and I can go home and sulk properly._

_I didn't think the day could have passed by any slower. Luckily, Dr. Josephson had not asked us any individual questions and I could almost passively listen to her preach her liberal ideas to a class with enough republicans to make it interesting. Who knew there were so many righties in college outside of the grand ole' state of Texas! At home, I threw my bag in the floor and flopped on the couch. I just needed a good hour of some comedy reruns to make me feel like a person again. Then I could go to the library and actually get some work done. This ethics class was no joke. One hour turned into two and when it was six thirty I realized I'd been staring at the TV and had no idea what I'd been watching after Ross and Rachael had broken up for the eight hundredth time on "Friends." I have never been one to pine away after someone. When I liked a boy, I would scope him out for a while and then I would usually make the first move for introductions. He would usually ask for the second meeting and everything always played out smoothly. Sometimes I would just get a good friend out of it, like Robert and P.J. Sometimes I would get a pretty good boyfriend for a few months, but nothing ever really serious. Then there was Stephen. He was exactly what I thought a steady boyfriend would be and we'd been pretty close for the past seven months. That's a while in college time. Maybe if I called him…no he was wrong and I don't need that crap right now. I have plenty of stress from my classes and the school newspaper. As a matter of fact, I should be writing something up right now! Ah, the phone! Saved again from evil work! _

_Miranda had heard about what had happened from Stephen when he had come to her begging for her to talk to me on his behalf. What an ass! Miranda had declined and yelled at him in front of his lacrosse buddies. She walked in my front door just as I was asking her what his face looked like when she did that._

"_Forget what his face looked like! We need to forget his stupid face!" she'd said as she took off her jacket and put her phone in her purse._

"_Well, damn, come in Miranda," I smiled. She did this to me at least once a week and I found myself reciprocating the gesture at her apartment almost as often. We'd met during the summer and become fast friends during our frequent study sessions in geology and 'the history of rock and roll.' I saw that she was wearing something bright and spangly. That usually didn't bode well for a quiet evening at home._

"_I thought about giving you some time to recover, but I just got back into this dress and an evening of watching you eat Ben and Jerry's and go through a box of tissues didn't sound healthy for either one of us, so, we are going out!" I watched her move towards my room and begin to rummage through my closet. After deciding what I was going to wear she laid it out on my bed and turned to make me start getting ready. She must have noticed my tear tracks because she crossed the distance between us and gave me a big, Miranda hug._

"_I'm sorry. I thought this would be better than letting you sulk about that jerk. Maybe I'm rushing you. So you want to watch a movie and order in instead? Robert is delivering tonight, we could get a good deal!" she said instantly ready to rearrange herself for me. I smiled so big I couldn't help but laugh and it felt good after feeling so much hurt for the past 24 hours. _

"_No need. Going out sounds great. I'll just wash my face." After a good hour of just chatting and being girly, a welcomed reprieve from our usual conversations on the ethics of life and hanging out with guys all the time, we were ready to go out. After a little dinner from the best and cheapest place in town, Thursday's Pub, we headed out to 53's, a popular hang out among us college folk. When we got there it was already kindof packed for a Thursday. I then realized that it was the best 'weekend' night for drink specials and it was bound to get more cramped with time. I felt my arm being pulled to the right and for a moment I panicked, having some kind of strange flashback to the night that had made me look like a murderer. Quickly shaking that thought out of my head, I looked up and saw that a large group of our other friends had gotten a table and were happily welcoming us._

"_I have to hand it to you Miranda, I didn't think she would come," P.J. started after he moved down the bench so we could take a seat._

"_I didn't think so either. We almost didn't, but Sarah decided she needed some group therapy!"_

"_I hope you mean Jack therapy!" Crystal shouted. Everyone cheered and she called the waitress over._

"_Five test tube shots and a double Jack for her, please! Her ex is an ass!" The waitress smiled at me and for some reason she looked like she'd heard this story a few times already tonight. _

"_Guys you know I don't drink," I said softly. It usually wasn't an issue even when we went out, it was just accepted. Then I really took notice of the table and saw there were already empty shot glasses and drink tumblers accumulating in the center. How long had they been here? They were about to answer and coax, they usually tried once or twice before accepting this and buying me a water, but P.J. saw something above my head and to the left that put a frown on his face and suddenly I was nervous. Did Tim find out I was entertaining the idea of a drink? I mentally smacked myself. How would my brother even know or care? I shook my head at my own paranoia and turned to see Stephen moving to the front of our table. _

"_Can I talk to you for a minute?" he asked me. I glared back at him. What a stupid question. _

"_Of course you can't!" Miranda answered for me. "Go away, Sarah doesn't want to look at you, ass!" Stephen smirked, he'd gotten used to Miranda's bluntness over the course of our relationship I guess, and turned to me. _

"_Sarah?" he said pleadingly. Shit, I wanted to go talk to him quietly somewhere. We had yelled so much, I'm sure I didn't get the full story. Maybe I had imagined the girl he was holding…and kissing last night. Surely there was an explanation…_

"_Stevie what do you want to drink?" came the high pitched voice of a rather bubbly bleach-blond. She wrapped her arms around Stephen's neck as she moved beside him. Had I really just been making excuses for this hooker? P.J. looked like he was about to start a fight, but I stood up before he had a chance. _

"_Stephen, Barbie, I think you should just go. Pretend I'm not here," I said as politely as possible. He looked at me and I could not understand what he was trying to say with his face. Fuck him!_

"_My name is not Barbie, my name is…"_

"_I don't really care. Please leave," I said my good mood starting to die and anger and hurt beginning to replace it. _

"_Sarah…" P.J. did stand up then and for some reason I was hoping he would punch Stephen right in the nose. Break that stupid, perfect nose P.J.! Stephen looked up at P.J. and then over at one of the passing bouncers who looked back at him and started to move toward the table._

"_Come on Monica," he said as they disappeared in to the crowd. I sat back down._

"_What a fuck!" Crystal commented. "He should come back here so I can put my heel up his ass!" Yea, poor Crystal was a little tipsy. And I was a little jealous. She was taking the same classes as I this semester and yet she did not have the look of stress that I seemed to not be able to get rid of so far this semester. Her boyfriend of the moment, Gabriel, rubbed her back._

"_This girl is not playing," he yelped. He must have also had a few of the glasses of something on the table. Looking around the table it seemed everyone was a little buzzed and they looked the better for it. Maybe, just one…and the drinks arrived. The moment of truth. Crystal passed the tubes around and she proposed a toast._

"_To forgetting stupid ass motha fuckin' pricks!" and the table cheered. They raised the tubes to the center, gently hit them on the table, and shot the things down in one gulp. I swallowed hard. Just this one drink couldn't hurt anything. I followed what they did when everyone had lowered their drinks and they cheered for me when I swallowed the drink in two gulps. That stuff wasn't bad. If all alcohol tasted that good I might be able to get used to that! Crystal was so excited that I had taken my first drink that she immediately bought me another and Miranda ordered me a Rum Punch. Shit, I didn't want to get drunk. I had classes tomorrow! After the third test tube shot, compliments of P.J., I took a large swallow of my punch to finish it off and decided that it was way too hot in here and time to dance. A moment later, Miranda, Crysta, and Il were holding hands as we traveled to the dance floor. I felt crazy! I was a little dizzy, but not the scary kind of dizzy and it felt fun, like I had just gotten my first kiss or something. I was hot and suddenly everything just sounded so much better! Every song that they played was my favorite and everyone was pretty. We three girls danced for about a good forty-five minutes before I decided I needed to get some water. At the table, there were already three unopened bottles of water sitting and waiting for us. Gabriel smiled when we got back and helped open the bottles. He then proceeded to finish his Jack and Coke. Crystal got about half way through her bottle and set it down with a thud. Gabe grabbed it before it spilt all over her white shirt. He looked like he wasn't sure why he had done that but shrugged it off. _

"_Sarah," she purred, "You never drank your double Jack!" she pushed the shot glass toward me. I eyed it dubiously._

"_Maybe she shouldn't Crys, this is her first night drinking and she has had quite enough." I agreed and moved my mouth to say so when I caught a glimpse of Stephen making out hardcore with Barbie. I felt my face get red, or redder, and my eyes squint. Crystal followed my glare and she smiled. _

"_Liquid courage?" she asked as she slid the glass closer. She was practically hanging across the table, her petite features gazing into my face. No wonder no one ever told her no! Miranda opened her mouth to say something but I picked up the glass and knocked it back faster than I had any intention of doing. First my tongue was angry. Then my throat was angry. Miranda quickly handed me my bottle of water and I chugged the rest of it. That was horrible! Crystal and Gabe laughed so hard I thought she was going to fall off of the table. Miranda looked a little worried but still wore a big grin on her face. _

"_Are you ok?" she asked after a minute. I did a quick check._

"_Yes?" I giggled. After a few more minutes of drunken ramblings, P.J. came back to the table with a very beautiful girl on his arm._

"_Hey guys, this is Lauren!"_

"_Lauren!" Crystal yelled, "Come sit! Where did you meet this loser!" she giggled. P.J. stuck his tongue out at her and the couple sat. We sat a little longer and suddenly I was feeling really, really, good. I wanted to give Stephen a piece of my mind. I got up quickly, or at least it felt quick, and walked over to the couple who had not moved since I'd spotted them ten minutes ago._

"_Stephen!" Was I shouting? "You are an ass hole! Why the fuck would you go cheat on me with Barbie? Wasn't I good enough?" He looked up, eyes slightly glazed, and stared at me. Barbie turned too. _

"_Stevie what is she talking about?" I think I shook my head and laughed._

"_Stephen don't tell me you didn't tell her about me! Barbie, "I looked into her fake eyelashes, "Stephen and I went out for a while. I broke up with him last night!"_

"_Oh you're the Shrew! Stevie she does not look like a…" His hand went to cover her mouth. What the fuck? This bitch had the nerve and then, Stephen? I moved forward and felt two hands on either shoulder._

"_Sarah, what the hell! You would be a fast drunk!" Miranda took in the scene around her. "Time to go!" _

"_No, this bitch was about to call me something that that bitch said earlier!" Did that even make sense? Miranda laughed._

"_It's ok, we'll talk about it later. Let's go make fun of P.J. again!" I think I nodded, my head was kinda heavy so I'm really not sure, and I followed her back to the table, but not without a good showing of 'the bird' at those idiots. When we got back, Gabe and Crystal were making out, as was P.J. and Lauren._

"_Well shit," Crystal said. She looked a little funny for a moment and she grabbed two test tube shots off of the passing waitress's tray. She handed one to me. _

"_To being hot and single!" she shouted and we took the shot. _

_I don't remember the rest of that night. I just remember waking up around 6 the next day and finding refuge in the toilet._

"_Sweet Jesus," I muttered after the third dry heave session. The rest of Friday had passed strangely. I slept through my classes and didn't move off of the couch. Around 7 Miranda came by. She looked pretty good compared to me._

"_Oh my gosh, do you have a hangover?" she asked gently, a smile playing around her mouth._

"_What do you think?" I snapped. I felt kind of bad for that, and then I didn't. Who takes someone on their first drinking night and leaves them high and dry the next day? She looked truly apologetic and went into my kitchen. _

"_What did you take for it?" she asked going through the cabinets. I squinted with each slamming door. _

"_Just some Tylenol." She came back with a large glass of water, a piece of toast, and two aspirin five minutes later."_

"_Sip, east slowly, and take at the end," she ordered. She helped me sit up and we watched a cheesy movie on TV while I picked at the toast. After about 30 minutes I felt better, but still not great. _

"_Did you get really sick?" she asked again. I glared at her. Miranda then gave me a long list of ways to avoid the dreaded hangover and tips on looking fresher the next day too._

"_This couldn't have been said yesterday?" I spat after a while. She smiled._

"_You wouldn't have listened, so listen now." And, I did. _

_I followed the tips when we went out the next weekend. I followed the tips when we went to a house party the Thursday after that, a frat party on Friday, and 53s on Saturday. I listened when I had a party the weekend after that and had enough alcohol to stock a bar for two weeks left over. I listened to that advice when Crystal, Gabe, and I started having mid-week drinking matches to get rid of said alcohol. I even listened when P.J. and I started having serious beer pong matches every Tuesday. _

_I stopped listening when Miranda said that she was going home after the three day weekend and not coming back._

"…Miranda dropped out for the rest of the semester and I didn't take it very well. I think I was angry at her because she told me goodbye and left, without any kind of explanation. She didn't even leave me any contact information and she won't talk to me because I've tried everything I could think of to get in contact with her." Sarah put her head down. She was already getting upset and she hadn't really gotten into the story. Tim noticed her clamming up and he prompted her with another question.

"What did you do after you found out she was leaving school?" Sarah looked up. Maybe it was better that her brother asked the questions. She would help him out if he asked the wrong ones. The only information she had just given him was that she'd had her first drink this semester, realized she liked the party aspect of drinking, and had broken up with her first really serious boyfriend, and he had been awful, and her best friend had left her, all before October. This side drama was without the stress and strain of serious, upper-level college courses at a top-notch university and a position on the award-winning school newspaper.

"I just didn't deal with it well."


	4. Chapter 3: A Way with Words

Tim was really worried. He didn't like where this was going. His sister was not a partier and most importantly she was not a drinker. If she was an alcoholic he'd kiss DiNozzo right on the mouth. His stomach flipped at the thought and he shook the notion right out of his delusional head. He had been a little worried about alcohol when she went to college because he knew how convincing people could be and how casual and fun Sarah liked to keep things. It wasn't that he didn't trust her, it was just that her high school years had been so tame, and no one in the family really drank, so she went to college without a real look at all the aspects of alcohol. He shook his head in frustration at himself. Sarah smiled.

"Tim it really is late and I don't want to bore you with…" he cut her off with a stern look.

"Sarah your life is of great interest to me. Your pain is of the utmost importance. I don't want to see you hurting anymore. I'm just confused. I just want so many answers and I don't want to force you into anything you are not ready to talk about, I just want…I just…"

"I know Tim. I'm sorry. I don't mean to be so mysterious, I just didn't talk about any of this anger I was feeling for so long, and then I just let it engulf me. It was overwhelming and I was just too tired to fight it."

"What engulfed you?"

"My anger at my friends and myself."

"Why?" He asked the last question cautiously. He knew he was starting to interrogate her but she needed the prodding and he wanted the answers. Sarah looked at him through the strands of the hair that had fallen into her tired eyes.

"I look pretty terrible, don't I?" He blinked. That was not what he had asked.

"You look fine."

"Such a boy. Do I really look fine?" She moved the hair from her eyes and he took the time to really look at her. He noticed the bags under her eyes and the way her clothes seemed to hang off of her. She looked tired and worn; not the look one would expect from a young twenty two year old girl. He leaned over and gave her big hug and she greatly accepted his warmth and comfort. He felt tears on the front of his shirt and sighed heavily as he stroked her back and whispered comforting words to her. She started talking again as he shifted her to lean her head on his shoulder while he leaned on the arm of the couch. Like it or not he was not in college anymore.

"I was angry at my friends because the good ones kept leaving. Miranda left and then P.J. left mysteriously. I had tried so hard to find them and I just couldn't seem to get the right information down. Guess I won't cut it as an investigator, huh?" she started through her more quieted tears.

"You just have to ask the right questions. It takes time," he answered quietly.

"I was also angry at other people that I called my friends because they just kept enabling me to do the things that I knew I didn't want to be doing. I was furious at myself because I kept letting it happen." He pulled her closer and she hugged him back.

"Basically, I just turned into a nasty person Tim. I was an alcoholic not too far into the semester. I went from being a drinker to a full blown _alcoholic_. I needed it and I wanted the drunkenness, the numbness every single minute of every, useless fucking day. I turned into a needy, pathetic person that fed off of people. I used myself to get what I wanted, used people like candy to fill my desires. I wanted to party I called these people, I wanted to drink I called those people, I wanted to feel like a woman I called that person, and most importantly, when I wanted to not be alone, I called Abby." Tim held his breath. Surely, Abby would not have let her continue down this path if she'd know what Sarah had been doing. Abby was passive but not when it came to real situations with people's feelings; if he remembered correctly, she was nosy and borderline neurotic when it came to fixing people. Sarah must have felt him tense because she continued confessing quickly.

"Abby was the only person I could talk to who did not judge me or want anything from me. She knew something was wrong when I would come and visit her or when she would visit me, but she never made me talk. She just waited for me to come to her and I used her. God Tim, I hurt that poor woman so much. I pulled and needed and ripped things from her until I broke her." She moved away from him and got off of the couch and started pacing.

"She didn't know what I was doing for a long time. You have to know that," she looked at him in the eyes until he nodded at her to continue. Who was this girl pacing nervously in front of him? How did he become her priest?

"She just talked to me, like I said. She would come to me whenever I called and I abused that. Sometimes I would call her at 1 or 2, sometimes 3 in the morning and she would just come over and we would sit. We might sit idly or chat about nothing. She always left in time to go to work; always with a reassuring smile on her face and with a big hug. Copious hugs and kisses." She smiled here and stopped her pacing. McGee was thinking back to the argument he'd had with her earlier that evening. "_Abs why is my kid sister calling you at all these weird hours?' 'Hey Abby, why do you keep coming into work looking like shit?'"_ Swirled around his head battering him at will. Sarah began pacing again.

"One night I called her and I think she was going to say no. So I told her that if she didn't come I was going to drink until she got there. It was right after I'd told her that I tended to drink a lot. She showed up at my door in record time." She looked ashamed, he-astonished. He would have never pegged his sister for a manipulator and here she was, explaining how he had tricked his girlfriend into making a fast one hour drive to and from his sister for weeks.

"One day I dropped in on her at work." McGee looked up sharply. "I waited till you were out on something and I came in and begged her to help me. She dropped everything that day and did what I wanted." He looked at her questioningly. He couldn't believe that she had been right there and he didn't know and that she hadn't wanted his to know.

"You can ask her about that. I don't have the courage right now. I just want you to know these things Tim, because I want you to understand that anything that she may have done or said during the whole fucking month of November was not her talking. It was some zombie I created and left for everyone else to deal with while I kept her for myself." Sometimes he forgot that she was getting a degree in journalism. She had always had a way with words.

***********************************

Hey guys, this is a really short chapter. I just wanted to post something so no one would think I had abandoned this story. I'm re-writing it, just about the whole thing. I didn't like where it was going and it was getting very long and BORING! So, I is tweaking it. I'll get it finished ASAP, as long as school and work don't kill me!


	5. Chapter 4: This is Going to Hurt

Tim was not sure which question to ask next. Sarah was not sitting on the floor looking at him with eyes full of questions and doubts. He noticed the clock: 5:30 a.m. Fuck.

"Tim, I love you. I'm sorry. Can I talk about this more later? I didn't think I was going to be able to say that much to you and I need to regroup." He shook his head in agreement. He wasn't sure how many confessions he could take from her at the moment. Without any more words he helped Sarah up and gave her another big hug. He escorted her into the office/game room in the back of the apartment and sat her on the plush couch that sat in front of the Panasonic flat screen. He tucked her onto the couch with a comforter and extra pillows from Abby's bed. A water bottle and two aspirin were pushed into her hands as he made sure the black out curtains were closed.

"Sleep. We'll talk later." He said as cordially as he could with the oppression of sleeplessness cloaking his words.

"Ok. Tim?"

"Yea."

"I love you." She had sounded so young and scared.

"I love you too. Sleep." He turned out the light.

"Tim?"

"Yea."

"Can you leave the light on?" That was a surprise. She'd slept in the complete dark before he had. Tim wondered back into the room and turned on a standing lamp in the corner. The light was very soft. '_Mood lighting?'_ He wondered.

"Ok?"

"Ok. Night." She barely finished the word. He set the slightly consumed water bottle on the floor beside her and kissed her forehead.

Entering Abby's room had always been a trip for Tim. The room was gray. It was a nasty, slate grey, a shade one might find in a prison or an asylum. The blackout curtains were elaborate. Red velvet curtains pooled in her floor and large black rope hung off to the side, ready to tie them back. He'd never seen them open. Her large four-posted, black bed took up most of the room. He almost remembered her saying something about the two of them redecorating the room. Or was that her making him a slave to her redecorating? His ability for coherent all-nighters after that much emotional turmoil was definitely fading the further he got from his teens…and his RPGs. His stomach sunk as he gently lifted her shirt and saw the blood soaked bandages covering her side. He knew he should have made her go to the hospital last night. Well, no time like the present.

"Abby," he whispered to her. No movement. He shook her shoulder gently. He heard her groan turn into a moan.

"Good God McGee, what happened?" she muttered. Her throat was dry and scratchy and she instantly wondered if she'd fallen asleep with her mouth open, as if that was the root of all her problems at the moment.

"You got into something last night and came back injured."

"Are we in a hospital?" she asked alarmed. Tim's eyebrows rose but he was too burnt out to really process the reaction.

"No. You're at home. We are going to a hospital now."

"Wait," she grabbed his hand, "let's not. It's too risky." He looked at her blood soaked bandages and tried to remove them to see the wound. She grabbed his hand again.

"Wait. That's…I don't want you to see that. Let's go to work." Her eyes had conveniently found a loose string on her comforter to stare at while his glare worked her over.

"Abby. I love you, you're going to kill me, but we are going to the hospital."

"Please, please baby." She didn't use pet names with him often. Not too seriously. It had been a habit she'd gotten into so that they wouldn't be too obvious, or obnoxious, at work. She also didn't plead seriously, sure in the bedroom, sure when she wanted to do something he wasn't quite sure about; of course whenever Gibbs didn't want to give into her; but never for anything important. She was proud, her Southern roots made sure of that. Tim bit down on his lip so hard he drew blood. He really did not want to be upset with her right now, but she was just ripping the last of his patience into nasty shreds. Abby glanced into his face and placed her left arm on his cheek. He yielded to her as she pulled his head down and she kissed the blood from his trembling lip. Her tongue did not leave the spot until she knew it had stopped bleeding, then she kissed his cheek.

"Please trust me. I know this is hard on us right now, especially on you. You probably don't trust me and if I were in your position I would feel the same, even though I would probably try to deny the feeling." She winked at him and he rested his forehead on her shoulder.

"Ok. I will not just leave you here though, and if you don't want Gibbs all over us, one of us should go in." Despite the wound throbbing in her side she shuddered at his breath on her neck. Maybe that was the slight fever trying to develop.

"You're a little warm," he commented as he felt behind her ears and her forehead. No, definitely McGee.

"You're not so bad yourself, "she smiled. He gently chuckled in her ear and rose from the bed.

"So what is your plan, great leader?" He asked. A gentle sigh blew through the room.

"Maybe, Ducky…"

"Just know that if you are at work Gibbs _will_ see you and he _will _find out what happened. He is not as calm as I am," he said as he helped her ease herself into a make shift sitting position. She fell to her better side a few times in order to alleviate the pain in her right.

"Fuck, what was I thinking! I am so stupid!" she moaned into the bed. He stroked her back and let her scream for another moment. They finally got her into a sitting position and her face had a fine sheen of sweat to show for it. Tim shook his head.

"I'm taking you to a hospital. Ducky doesn't have prescription drugs at his beck and call and you need an antibiotic to make sure you don't develop an infection. You also need pain…"

"I'm not allowed to have pain pills unless I'm dying," she interrupted. His left eyebrow rose in question.

"Since when do you have restrictions on anything you do?" She shook her head.

"It's rare and varied. What am I wearing to work today?"

"You aren't really going to try and work, are you? It took us ten minutes to sit you up and you're already leaning over again," he commented as he helped ease her back into the slightly lopsided position. A lone tear slid down her face.

"I don't know what to do anymore. I can't…can't do anything right and whatever I touch just…I don't McGee. I can't think anymore." Tim's heart broke a little more at her pain. His loving arms held tight around her shoulders while she lazily rested her head on his shoulder.

"Where's Sarah?"

"Asleep in the game room. How did you know she was here?"

"I told her on Monday that if she hadn't spoken to you and explained the situation by today, that I would have to tell you and then I would make her come and talk to you." He smiled. She clenched in pain and decided that she was probably needlessly torturing herself, but on more levels than she liked to admit, thought that she'd deserved the pain. She pushed that thought as far away from her mind as she could; that could be dealt with later.

"Ducky will come here, but you have to promise me that if he thinks you need more than his medical attention, you will go to the hospital-no arguments." Tim had slid himself off the bed and was trying to ease her back under the covers. Her lack of resistance had him more worried than he acted.

"All right. That's fine," she was already drifting back to sleep. He couldn't imagine how; when he was in any kind of pain he couldn't sleep unless he was drugged. A gentle, promising kiss was placed on her lips as he left the apartment for work.

In the car, McGee had dialed Ducky at home and after promising him a very large favour in the future, they agreed to keep the situation as hushed as they could. That task done, McGee dialed their favorite pizza place and left a message to deliver a pizza at 12:30 to Abby's address.

He arrived at work before he knew it and began to question his ability to be productive at work immediately. He really needed a pansy coffee drink; something that took longer to say than to make. He noticed the clock and instead of driving away to Starbucks, he hurried toward his office.

"You're late McGeek," DiNozzo started as soon as he rushed in and sat at his desk.

"Just because you arrived before I did, does not make me late," he answered just as quickly. DiNozzo looked up at his junior agent.

"You ok McGoo?" Tim closed his eyes. For some reason, the idea that he looked like crap and people might call him out on it had not really crossed his sleep addled brain. He shook his head.

"Yea, sorry, just a long night?"

"Girlfriend ran outta ink?" Tim's mind played the "keyword game." Ink for tattoos? Ink for writing? Quills? Sadism? Sand…

"Probie!"

"What?" he answered hazily. Maybe Abby was rubbing off on him in the wrong ways too.

"Did you sleep at all last night? What were you doing?" Tim blinked a few times. He also hadn't gotten as far as a cover-up story. Where was Abby when you needed a quick story?

"I was going over some things on the case and I fell asleep at my desk. It was a really terrible position." That sounded plausible. DiNozzo agreed.

"Poor Probie. When will you learn to keep the office at the office?" he shook his head in mock rebuke.

"What are we doing right now? Where's Gibbs?"

"Well, _I_ am working. _You_ are talking to me. Gibbs is up with the Director." Tim was relieved that he wasn't in autopsy. Usually his round to autopsy included a visit to the lab. He really needed a few minutes to sort everything out. He wasn't going to lie to his teammates; he just wanted to hold off their inevitable abilities at getting in each other's business as long as possible.

"Right. I'll just…" his comment tapered off and he began to reanalyze his work from last night and get it ready to present. He also sent an e-mail to resources, so they could send a few lab techs to take over for Abby for the day. Notes prepared, he started a search on the rest of the information he'd pulled from the palm-pilot. He traced his bank account, credit cards, and most importantly, cross referenced all the contacts in the phone with their records. Maybe a name and i.d. would sound familiar to a witness or two. Soon after he'd set a few searches going, he heard Gibbs reenter the office.

"DiNozzo quit talking dirty to your cell phone and tell me how Petty Officer Jeffries managed to hide the rest of that heroin after he died "naturally." A "where" would be nice too." DiNozzo hastily hung up on his bed mate from two days earlier.

"Ah, that dentist, such a talker." Gibbs rolled his eyes and began another brainstorming session on the case.

"Jeffries…" McGee thought he was listening. He knew Gibbs was talking and was very aware that he was explaining something important, but he was so wrapped up in trying to get his loose ends together that he missed the whole segment on new developments in the case and Gibbs trying to get the information he'd gathered together. A smack to the back of his head brought him out of his reverie rather quickly. It also woke the grumpy side that he tried to keep out of the office on most days. This was not one. A long sigh rolled out of his mouth and he slowly turned to his boss and team mate.

"Sorry, I'm a little out of it. Where were we?" Gibbs gave him a hard glare, but instead of dwelling on the moment he continued with the case. Try as he might, McGee could not pay attention to the conversation. His brain jumped to Abby and his sister at every lull and dip in the conversation. He was alert enough to put in some input every now and again and argue with DiNozzo, but his brain was a mess. This was an unusual dilemma for Timothy McGee the Focused. Somewhere during the campfire, Agent David made an appearance.

"Whadya got for me David?"

"The agent in charge of Jeffries' record was working with Jeffries to traffic heroin and people into the country."

"Finally, somebody did something to get a paycheck!" McGee nodded as Gibbs reissued his orders. DiNozzo and David went to visit Lina Morales, the woman that claimed to be Jeffries' sister. They now suspected her of being a drug mule. McGee was to verify the plane roster of Jeffries last six trips to Puerto Rico and…he really wasn't sure. He knew he'd figure it out as soon as he got some kind of confirmation on Abby. He quickly gathered his things and went to the closest convenience store for a Caf-Pow and some air.

*************************************

The sound of breaking glass dragged her out of another dream about her best friend's whereabouts. Sarah rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and drowsily sat up on the plush couch. The light in the room was comforting, but the sound of crunching glass and a rapid intake of breath quickened her pulse and disturbed her to no end. She jumped from the couch and bolted out to find the problem. Her first stop was Abby's room. To her dismay she did not find her friend but did find a few droplets of blood on the carpet and a larger blood stain on the sheets.

"Shit," she muttered, "Abby!" She raced into the bathroom and almost tripped over the long body in the floor.

"Abby! What happened? Are you ok?" Sarah had knelt by the woman's side and was trying to move her from the floor.

"Stop! Get out, there's broken glass on the floor. You're going to hurt yourself." Sarah rolled her eyes.

"Abby, you are unbelievable! Can you move?"

"Yea, just move," Abby answered tiredly. She tried to make herself sit up but her side would have none of it. She dropped her head back to the floor. Sarah's face appeared before her eyes and she blinked to focus on the young woman. Unshed tears glistened in Sarah's hazel eyes. She searched for a way to keep on the situation at hand but not harass her with questions.

"What broke?" Abby had not expected that.

"The picture frame on the wall. I lost my balance, grabbed the wrong piece of wall. Watch your feet," she said as Sarah's foot stretched into the floor.

"Go put shoes on or something."

"No, I'm not leaving you here."

Sarah I am not moving. Just…" she thought she heard a light rapping on the door. Sarah opened her mouth to speak but Abby's slight hush silenced here. There was a more definite knocking on the front door and Abby was sure she knew who it was.

"What?" Sarah asked, alert and nervous.

"The front door. Go let Ducky in, please." Sarah had no idea how Abby had heard the front door all the way in the master bath at the back of the apartment, but she went to the front door to investigate anyway. To her slight surprise she did see Ducky through the peephole.

"Ducky! I'm so glad you're here! She fell in the bathroom and I'm afraid to move her…" Ducky moved quickly to follow Sarah's pace to the bathroom.

"Abigail, my dear, what have you done to yourself now," he began as he entered the bedroom.

"Ducky! Are you wearing shoes?" He stopped mid-step.

"Yes, of course."

"Good there's glass. Don't let Sarah in here without shoes." Sarah nearly screamed at her. How could she be so preoccupied with the well being of her feet when she had a stab wound and unidentifiable glass damage to her body? Ducky smiled and inwardly sighed. He had never met one such as his dear Abigail.

"Sarah, could you do me a favor and wait outside of the restroom please? I may need you in a moment." She shook her rapidly.

"Not without shoes!" Abby said with as much force as she could muster. It sounded pitiful even in her own ears.

"Ok, ok don't worry. I'm getting shoes now," Sarah replied as soothingly as possible. Ducky nodded gratefully at her, then moved into the bathroom, careful to not step on Abby or the bits of glass everywhere.

"What happened? Where are you injured?"

"Ah, just now or last night?" she evaded. The throbbing in her side turned sharp for a moment and she took that as a sign to stop denying the help she was being offered and try to get herself well.

"Both. What is hurting the most?" She could hear the tension in his voice as he was fighting keep his self calm and collected.

Ducky had only really seen Abigail injured a few times. Each time he saw her wounded, a pain wrapped his heart, and he was upset for days afterward. For him, it almost seemed unethical for Abby to be hurt; a cosmic conundrum. She was his fresh perspective, partner is scientific crime, and most importantly, the daughter he'd never had. If she was hurt, so was he. He shook his head to clear it of such thoughts, and gently started to check her head for injuries.

"Just now, I was trying to get to the bathroom and I had a wave of vertigo and knocked the picture off when I toppled over. This is so embarrassing. I'm sorry Ducky; you have so many things to do right now and…"

"Hush, Abigail. If I didn't want to be here, I would not be here. Did you cut yourself on the glass?"

"I think maybe on my hand and my foot. My body is a little numb with other pains." She closed her eyes in mortification. How did she keep getting into this shit?

"Where are these other pains?"

"My side. I…there was…it was an accident. I was stabbed." Ducky paled.

"And you didn't go to a hospital? What were you thinking!" he moved quickly to find the wound and swallowed when he saw the blood soaked bandages.

"I had a friend do a little field dressing to make sure I didn't keel over. It's not too bad…"  
"I'll be the judge of that, young lady." She quieted, her energy waning as she laid on the cold tile. Her submission alerted him to her condition more than the nasty bandages and the blood which was now pooling at her side without the covering. A few curses, for Ducky at least, were released as he looked at the chop-shop job the person did at stitching her side.

"This might be deeper than you think Abigail. I need to know what you were stabbed with, when, what you've taken, and what the idiot who touched this, did to you! Now!" Abby blinked the haze out of her eyes. Ducky was really upset. Why was she so out of it? It really was cold on the floor.

"Abigail?" His voice was slightly frantic. If she lost consciousness he was going to have to act fast.

"I'm sorry Ducky. What?" She tried to wake herself up but her body was rejecting her. She was freezing and everything felt heavy.

"Who stitched you up?" If he kept it short she might stay with him.

"One of my tattoo friends. He does some stuff on the s-side."

"What are you feeling right now Abigail? Answer."

"Cold. Tired. Stuck." He sighed in frustration. Why hadn't she gone to a hospital last night?

"Sarah, bring me towels please." Sarah had been waiting impatiently outside of the door. A stack of towels appeared before him in a matter of moments.

"More?" she asked frantically.

"Maybe, tuck one under her head, and tuck the rest next to her. Do not put the towels across her body yet." She worked quietly.

"What did you and he do about this wound?"

"Max did a little stitching. He put the bandages on it." Ducky had soaked enough of the bleeding to see the stitching more clearly. It was definitely a sloppy, field dressing that wouldn't have passed in any circle.

"Did you rip a stitch?" She blinked back her unconsciousness.

"What?"

"Did you reopen the wound?"

"Um, I think I did rip one open. I didn't have the tools to sew it back, so I just shoved some peroxide and cotton over it. I put more bandages." Ducky shook his head in frustration and shock. He looked into her bright emeralds.

"I'm sorry dear, this is going to hurt."

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Aghhh, who thought summer classes were a good idea? They are horrible!!! Blah, it's over this week though! Yea! Maybe after that I can finish this thing! Thank you for the wonderful reviews!


	6. Chapter 5: Tell Me

Finally! I am so sorry that this took so long. I won't bore you with life details; I just want everybody to know that moving sucks, hard-like a Dirt Devil! Anyways, lemme know what you think!!!!

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He worked on her for almost two hours. He'd been at an extremely stressful angle because she was flat on the ground in front of him and Ducky's back tired quickly with the strain. Infection had inevitably set in more than she'd expected and he'd had to push the infection out before he could really get to stitching. More than twice he'd had to stop working in order to calm her screams. Every time he saw her face scrunched in anguish and her raspy voice cut off to retain some dignity, he cursed his lack of speed in replacing his bottle of local anesthetic. He had so rarely needed it at work, and his personal supply had been depleted over time. It had been horrifying to watch her wake in agony like that, but Ducky knew that if he didn't work fast and hard, the wounds would be even more of a burden. He did not have the heart to not comfort her, hold her hand, and brush her bangs away from her sweat soaked brow.

Sarah looked properly haunted as she sat beside Abby's bedside and stroked the back of the pale hand in hers. She was careful to not touch the IV line that hung from the makeshift stand of a wire hanger and the bed frame. Ducky shook his head from the chair where he rested his aching back.

"Do you have any idea what happened to Abigail?" Sarah glanced at his face but turned her attention back to the IV drip.

"This is important Sarah. I need to know if we should be testing her blood for anything dangerous. Was this a malicious attack? Have the police been informed? The trajectory of the wound suggests that this was not self-inflicted and the depth suggests foul play as opposed to an accidental injury. The…"

"What if it was an accident?" Sarah's voice was so low and quiet that Ducky wasn't sure if she'd spoken at all. His mind quickly started putting two and two together and he was at once furious, but his curiosity tempered his need for revenge.

"Was it someone she knows?"

"No. It was an accident that she got stabbed. I was his target. I should be lying in the hospital right now." Ducky nodded in understanding and remorse for the pressure and pain the girl was going through. He'd sadly been in the same exact position not once in his long, exotic life.

"My dear girl, tell me everything."

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McGee was starting to think that his days of all-nighters were swiftly coming to a close. He was more lethargic than he'd even been after a night of no sleep and he was paying for it, literally. He'd overpaid at the convenience store and the clerk hadn't been as honest as he should have been. His route back to the Navy yard was somehow blurred in his mind and he went a block out of his way to rectify the situation. All he'd wanted was some air and caffeine. Caffeine; manna from heaven with a straw today. Abby. The name pounded in his head and he fought the urge to call Ducky for the seventieth time during his outing. He knew she was in the best hands and he trusted him to make the right decisions for her, Ducky could even tell her no, a feat the whole team had trouble doing. Giving in to his need to know, he pressed 7 on his phone and waited for Ducky to answer.

"Timothy, you have excellent timing," Tim let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.

"Ducky, how is she? What happened? Is she…"The onslaught of questions tumbled out of his mouth before he could temper them with any patience.

"Wait, wait! One at a time. Abigail is going to be just fine, with some time. She had a nasty stab wound." McGee blanched.

"I tried to take her to the hospital but she refused. I was afraid she would further injure herself with her protesting so I just let her be. She needed a hospital though, didn't she?" The last statement was presented as a self-defeating statement instead of a question. Ducky sighed.

"You did what you thought was best Timothy. Now, young Sarah has provided some insight into the matter of the stabbing. Basically, Abby saved your sister by taking out some punk in a bar last night." McGee stilled. A thousand thoughts flitted through his head and each one made him a little angrier than the last. Whoever it was, they were now dead.

"Is she awake?"

"Not yet. I gave her a powerful painkiller after I finished the procedure."

"She mentioned something about not being allowed to have pain killers this morning; do you know anything about that?" McGee was suddenly worried again. What if Abby had a medical reason for refusing painkillers?

"Don't worry, Abby and I have discussed this matter before. I was wondering if we may have a word face to face soon." Ducky glanced wearily at Sarah from his position in the doorway to Abby's room. She didn't look up from her and Abby's conjoined hands neatly folded on the bed.

"I'm on my way there now."

"Why don't I meet you at work? It is late enough in the day that Gibbs will have some reasons to visit the lower corridors of the building. We need to get everything straight before we get Gibbs in on this."

"There's no way he won't get involved?" Tim knew it was a shot in the dark but it never hurt to try. Ducky smiled wryly while he gathered his things.

"I would say not. I'll meet you in autopsy."

"Ok. Thank you Ducky for taking care of our girl."

"None are more welcome than you dear boy. Autopsy in thirty. " Ducky finished the conversation and killed the connection.

"Sarah, please watch over Abby for me. She should be asleep for a few more hours. If she wakes after four more hours you should get her to drink something and try to persuade her with something soft to eat. Do not force the food, it will make her sick and we will be back where we started this morning. Try not to let her get up; she has a nasty gash on the bottom of her foot too. She may take another pain pill." Sarah nodded and made sure to keep her eyes focused on anything but Ducky's eyes.

"Everything is going to be fine. If you are strong, everyone will be strong." Ducky gently squeezed her shoulder and left for the office. Sarah watched him leave then turned her attentions back to Abby's sleeping form.

"I'll have the strength of Hercules if you need it."

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Tim had gotten back to the office with the fog of the morning burned off by his need to see justice. He actually went straight to his desk and looked up information for the case at hand, expecting to have to sneak down to autopsy at any minute. He hoped it was before the rest of the team got back. He just didn't want to jump into anything with them until he knew for sure what had happened first. When they went after this guy, he wanted to make sure they had everything right so he had no chance to walk, not that he would be walking much when they were through with him. The thought alone caused him some distress and he counted backwards from ten to keep himself calm and useful.

"Wake up Sleeping Beauty!" DiNozzo's voice sliced into his consciousness. McGee's eyes shot open. So much for staying calm.

"Whadya got for me McGee?" Tim filled them in on the information he'd researched. They took the information and regrouped. The phone of Tim's desk rang and he answered it quickly. It was Ducky.

"I'm going down to autopsy for a second. Ducky wants me to look at something." Gibbs eyed him suspiciously but did not stop him.

"Take these to Abby on your way then." He pointed to the box of evidence DiNozzo had carried in and the Caf-Pow on his desk. Tim exited the bullpen without discussion.

"That was awkward even for McNerd."

"Yea, yea it was." Gibbs sat firmly in his chair and continued to stare at the closed elevator doors that McGee had hence escaped. Despite the familiar gnawing feeling of certain wrongness in his gut, he decided to wait for his youngest agent. If McGee hadn't spilled by the end of the day, then he would prompt action.

***********

"So she's really ok?" McGee barged into Autopsy without preamble. Startled, Ducky dropped his pen from his hand. He turned sharply to find McGee looking weary and worried; a full box of evidence in his arms. Ducky's face softened and he gently moved to take the box.

"She's going to be in pain for while but she will heal. I have some questions for you though." McGee was slightly surprised but he nodded in response.

"You know more than I do if Sarah told you what happened last night."

"Indeed she did. You can hear the full story when you get back to your girls." For some reason hearing Abby and Sarah referred to in that way made him feel much better; more responsible. "That story is not important at the moment, I..."

"Wait, that story isn't important? If I don't go and question Sarah now she could get her story all messed up. It's already been a long time since the crime happened. I want whoever did this." McGee leaned heavily on the vacant steel table behind him. Ducky's lip quirked upwards.

"I see Jethro has had a rather forceful effect on you Timothy. Do not fear, according to Sarah, the boy who did this will not be difficult to find. I have a more pressing matter on the forefront of my mind. How has Abby been?" The question caught him off-guard.

"What? What do you mean?"

"Mentally, how has Abby been? She's seemed a little off at work recently but it's such a strange time of year. The weather changes, the dynamic of people and schedules change and Abby is a sensitive person. Has she exhibited any signs of something a little darker?" McGee couldn't help but smirk.

"Dark for Abby?" Ducky shared the smirk with him but became much more serious in an instant. He stepped closer to Tim and placed a gentle palm on his forearm.

"Has Abby been depressed recently? Has she talked about being sad or upset about anything you can think of? Something at home or at work?" McGee looked at him sharply. Of course he would have seen those. He hung his head.

"I just found out about those recently. I should have seen it coming. She's been so tired; hasn't been herself for weeks. I was too frustrated to really notice, I didn't want anything to be wrong. Oh God, Ducky I made her do this to herself!" He wanted to cry but found himself to overwrought with pent up emotions that he was just too spent. He heaved a sigh that clung to every crevice of the room and hung heavily in the air. Ducky tightened his grip on McGee. He had hoped against hope there was another reason for those marks he'd found; had prayed and begged that this wasn't something deeper; more detrimental and sneaky. He searched his brain to find the right words to say, the professional thing with enough humanity and familiarity to get his point across. He was too upset to really think that way at the moment.

"Perhaps you could have seen it, but I would hope you wouldn't jump to such a conclusion about her. Did she tell you how she got them?"

"Really, I just saw them a few days ago. She didn't know that I had and I just…froze. I didn't know whether to approach her or not and finally last night I couldn't take it and I questioned her about it. I did it at the wrong time and she just got so upset, she ripped her stitches and she passed out and then…blood everywhere. It was like it was all over the house and…" Ducky saw what was happening too late. He swiftly grabbed onto Tim with both hands and dragged him into his office and sat him roughly in the chair. McGee didn't really react to the movement at all. He just kept confessing until the tears came. They rolled in swift succession down his cheek and seemed to flow harder the more he thought about how much his Abby had been suffering and how little he'd done for her. He felt selfish and cruel, but mostly confused.

Ducky was beside himself in sympathy and worry for the man hunched in front of him. He handed him his handkerchief and pulled the small blanket he kept in his cupboard around Tim's shaking shoulders. Swiftly, he put on the water for tea. He'd never been so thankful that Jimmy had volunteered to run the errands for him that day, Ducky wasn't ready for any questions just yet. Several minutes later he set a steaming mug of hot tea in front of his charge. He'd given McGee some time, a moment to breakdown and was now ready to help build him up again.

"Drink this. It will make you feel better." McGee took a timid sip and simply sat in the chair gripping the mug for warmth. Ducky opened his mouth to assure him that they didn't have to talk this out at the moment but Tim beat him to it.

"Last night, after I drove her home, I followed her into the apartment. I knew something was wrong; she never came back form any of her nights out quiet or subdued, or even that tired. She had sat in the passenger seat and simply rode, half-asleep back tot her place. I thought she had been drugged and I was about to take her to the hospital but she had woken up in the middle of the drive and made me promise to just take her home. I figured she was tired. We went upstairs and I knew something was really wrong by the way she moved. She was slow and careful getting out of the car, more so on the steps. I begged her to let me take her somewhere to get checked out. I begged her to let me see what was wrong but she just shook her head and argued with me all the way up the stairs. I knew something was wrong but I didn't do anything. When we were upstairs she moved to go to her room but I wouldn't let her out of my sight. She had her favorite, long black trench on and I removed it from her after she wouldn't take it off. She had so much blood on her. I instantly searched for her wound and found the bandages under her shirt. She fought me at first but after she saw that I wasn't going to quit, she stopped struggling and I knew she was really in pain. As she became more unresponsive I grew more worried and I had practically picked her up and was about to take her back to the car so we could go to the hospital but she just…turned on. She fought me; she actually got me real good in the shoulder. I caught her wrists and saw a scar when I looked at them. She pulled back but I had put her on the couch and she had no where to go. I pushed up her sleeves and I dropped her hands and almost cried. There were questions of her and all hell broke loose. She kicked the table, her stitches were loosed. She wanted to be so brave; she refused to cry in front of me, to cry at all. I think she tried to fix her stitches; I didn't want to fight anymore so I just let her do what she wanted. When she passed out I just, took her to bed and did what she'd told me earlier. I called my sister and here we are now." McGee had gone monotone he was so drained. He'd kept his speech simple but he wanted to make sure at least somebody knew what happened; had some sort of idea of how he'd messed up so much before the guilt he'd been feeling most of the day consumed him. He released the mug long enough to let a shaky hand rake through his close cropped hair.

"I'm just so sorry. She wouldn't let me say how sorry I was." Ducky's heart broke at the sight of Tim's shattered countenance. He gathered him into an unfamiliar hug but to his delight the agent latched onto him and took the comfort in chunks.

"It's all right. Nothing could have prepared you for that. You did what you thought was best. No one can fault you for that. Your heart was in the right place and Abby understands that. She wasn't mad at you, she was just scared of something completely different, you were just convenient…" he continued along that line of comfort for a few more minutes. Eventually they retreated into silence, the ME gently rocking McGee as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Tim broke the hug first and he leaned back into the doctor's chair.

"God, I'm sorry Ducky. I didn't mean for this to come down on you like this. It's my fault and…"

"What did I just finish telling you? I am here; your team is here to help you in times like this. I will not accept your apology." Tim smiled weakly.

"Thanks Ducky."

"That's much better. Now we need a plan of action."

"I need to see Abby. I can't believe I tried to work today with what just happened. I'm going home now." With new energy he placed the mug on the desk and gently placed the blanket in the recently vacated chair.

"You need to let Gibbs know you're leaving and dear God, man have some compassion. Don't leave here without telling him about Abby. You owe him that much. She's important to him, to her whole team and an omission of events that big is going to be rather unpleasant." McGee nodded, he'd known that the whole time.

"Let me take this box of evidence to the techs, you call Gibbs."

"Call Gibbs about what?" a new voice asked.

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…and done! Wow, sorry guys. I've completely moved away from my original story plan and this is a little more "think and write" then I like it to be. Oh well, enjoy! I'll try to have the next chapter out much sooner.


	7. Chapter 6: Not Anymore

A/N: So, please don't hate me. I am out of excuses. All of the old ones still apply. Honestly, I had no idea where I was going with this story and have rewritten this chapter and the next few a number of times. Hopefully, I will be wrapping this up soon-I think Abby and Sarah need a break!

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"What the fuck?" came out of the quiet darkness and hit Sarah with the jolt of hope she'd been waiting for all day.

"Abby! Oh my God!" Sarah turned on the lamp by the bed and began to feel the woman's forehead. Abby tried to shake her hand away.

"Stop that. What's going on?" her voice was hoarse and choked with sleep. Sarah moved to get her some water and after five minutes of finagling Abby's body into some sort of upright position, managed to coax her into taking a few sips. That accomplished, Abby stared blankly at the dark canopy above her.

"Abby? Do you know what happened to you?" Sarah couldn't imagine anyone forgetting an ordeal like that, but she'd read some amazing things on the brain's ability to block unpleasant memories. Abby did not answer but did seem to be taking much larger, slower breaths.

"Are you in pain? I can get you some more medication…"

"No! I can't…that stuff is…I hate that stuff. I'm at home right?" Her words were labored in her drug addled haze. Sarah bit her lip to stop from crying out. The guilt she'd been feeling threatened to overwhelm her but she knew that now was not the time: Abby needed her and she was going to be damned if she didn't help her after everything that she'd suffered because of her. Sarah moved away from Abby's face to give her some air.

"Yes you are at home. It's about one in the afternoon." Abby nodded slightly and turned to look at the thing that was making her arm cold.

"Is that thing almost done?" Sarah eyed the IV bag.

"I have no idea. I think so, there's not very much left in there."

"Ok." Abby made a move to rip at the tape over the needle but Sarah stilled her hand. Abby tried to continue but Sarah gripped the hand harder.

"Leave it be Abby. I will take it out when it is completely empty. How do you feel?" Abby gave her the best withering look she could muster and closed her eyes, determined to focus on her breathing. She would not have any more pain medication unless it was forced down her throat. Sarah checked the time and realized that Abby had not slept as long as Ducky had hoped.

"You should go back to sleep. There's nothing to do right now." Abby glanced at her and took another large breath, only to let it out with a painful wheeze; deep breathing would have to be out for now.

"Ice?" she asked as nicely as she could. Maybe if she got the girl to do something she would stop staring at her as if she'd handed her the last cup of "special Kool-Aid." Sarah practically ran to the tiny kitchen and found some ice for her patient.

As Sarah slowly fed the woman crushed ice, she began to stare intently at Abby's bandaged forearms. She knew what was under there, had seen the damage she'd done and most importantly the damage she'd started. The regret that threatened to choke her sat heavily in the back of her throat; large enough to kill her but slow enough to make her suffer first. She jumped when she felt Abby's cool hand on hers.

"Stop." The command was simple but it said everything that Abby wanted to say and everything that Sarah couldn't do. The younger woman shook her head in a physical display of clearing her thoughts and placed the plastic cup from which she'd served ice onto the nightstand.

"I can't."

"You can. Stop. Have you slept today?" The tears that Sarah had been holding at bay began to trickle gently down her cheeks.

"How can you still be worried about _me_? What is wrong with you?" She spoke with the tremor that tears give the voice and the heaviness of a weary ancient. Abby smiled dopily, the medication still playing slightly with her motor skills.

"You are important to me; of course I am going to care. There are many things wrong with me by the way, but there are also many things that are right. I like to go with those things. Speaking of going…" her mind lead her mouth on another long foray into her psyche, her now morphed psyche, leaving Sarah to take the words she was getting close to her heart. Every now and again she would nod to Abby's words, laugh where appropriate, or simply look as if she could understand her gibberish. Abby's burst of energy faded with the minutes. The new silence was unexpected and awkward. Sarah absent mindedly brushed the hair from Abby's eyes. Abby took the opportunity to grab at her hand.

"Eat something and take a nap. Relax. My home is your home. Please Sarah," she smiled a bit and tried to keep full eye contact but the task was too great, so she blinked and drifted off. Sarah smiled wide, her previous tears long stopped when she'd finally heard Abby sound like…Abby, for the first time in a long time.

"Right. Good night Abby."

"Good afternoon." She answered groggily. Sarah laughed out loud; this woman would never cease to amaze her. Her eyes wondered to the IV drip; the bag was empty. She was practically humming as she dialed Ducky's number.

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"Tell Gibbs what McGee?" Tim turned his body slowly to take in the sight of said Gibbs. Shit. Gibbs' face remained somewhat neutral; concern inked into his forehead, impatience making his teeth grind, the usual. The previous empowerment McGee had been feeling seemed to leak out of him as if he were some strange human balloon.

"Well…"

"Jethro stop that. We don't have time for you to be you." Ducky snapped. He'd foreseen this situation, but the premonition had not helped with preparation. He stalked to Jethro's chest and looked him in the eye.

"We've had an accident. We need to fix it. You are here about Abby." Jethro's eyes began to blaze in a fire he usually reserved for his most obnoxious criminals…and DiNozzo if he was having a particularly bad day. To his credit, he did not lash out, he simply nodded his head for the ME to continue.

"First, you must promise to let Timothy finish his story before you turn into a devil." Gibbs nodded again, but much stiffer. His stomach had been churning since last night but he's tried to attribute it to the questionable BBQ he'd picked-up for dinner. It had flared up so often in the past few months he thought he had really developed an ulcer, but not one that would need a doctor - one that would need more coffee.

"And if anything in this room…"

"Ducky, the clock is ticking." Ducky smiled as his cell phone buzzed happily to a jaunty rendition of "Uncle Seamus' Boot." He smiled encouragingly at Tim as he retreated into the safety of his office. Cheater.

"Boss…"

"I need the short version on this McGee. Is she ok?" Tim worried his bottom lip slightly.

"I think so." Gibbs covered the distance between them in a few short strides.

"You _think_ so! You think so! What the hell kind of answer is that?" The air from the previous balloon deflation found its way back inside and began to pump McGee into a level of anger he'd been waiting to unleash all day.

"It's the only answer I fucking have!" he shouted right back into Gibbs' face. Jethro stood there for the slightest of moments; the move from McGee had not been expected. Gibbs, not to be outdone, moved right back into McGee's face.

"Then you better think of another one."

"Physically she'll be fine." Jethro took a step back.

"And?"

"I don't know!" he pulled the fist he was already making even tighter. Gibbs, sensing the younger man's obvious distress and loss of control, grabbed Tim by the shoulders and shook him slightly.

"Calm down. Whatever we are doing is not helping Abby. I need answers McGee and right now you are the only person who is going to give them to me." He'd softened his tone slightly. Tim let out a long even breath and pulled away from his boss' grip.

"Look, everything has just happened really quickly. Last night, I picked Abby up from a long night and when we got home I found out that she had a stab wound. She wouldn't let me take her to the hospital or anything; some hack job gave her stitches. It's been a long night." He leaned heavily against an autopsy table to try and ease the tension in his body. His crossed arms tried to cover the slight tremors that were racking his tired flesh. Gibbs looked furious.

"You didn't take her to the ER? What the fuck McGee!" McGee just hung his head and listened. He'd asked himself that question so many times in the last 12 hours he didn't think hearing it more would matter. Gibbs grabbed him roughly by the front of the shirt.

"Where is she now?"

"At home Jethro, let go of the boy's shirt and get some control over yourself. We have better things that need tending. I'm going to see her now." Ducky announced as he strode quite quickly from his office and out of the Autopsy doors. Gibbs gave one last shake to his agent and moved to follow Ducky.

"Do not interrogate her. She is in good hands and is not up answering questions right now." Gibbs stopped and turned to look at Tim.

"Was that an order McGee?" His tone said "Don't-Make-me-Come-Over-There-and-Show-You-Some-Orders," but his eyes were sparkling with something akin to shock and pride. McGee shook his head as he moved toward the doors also.

"No, it was a request. Gibbs…there has been a lot going on that neither one of us has known anything about and it's not easy to explain just now. We have to give her some space and…"

"McGee was that an order?" Tim looked him in the eye. Something in the back of McGee's brain told him that this would come back on him someday, but his heart silenced the warning and gave him the strength to stand his ground.

"Yes. Leave that part alone." Gibbs stared at him for a good minute but Tim did not back down. Something like approval flitted across baby blues.

"Fine. Suspect?"

"Yes and he is supposedly going to be very easy to find according to my sister." Gibbs nodded. He was surprised to here Sarah was in on this; he knew so little about her or her relationship with her brother and Abby. This problem was getting more mysterious by the second.

"Anything else?"

"My sister is with her. Do not question her unless I'm with her. She's not doing very well either." Jethro's eyes turned down slightly at the statement. Who had been stupid enough to mess with an agent's sister and girlfriend? He placed a tentative hand on McGee's shoulder; trying his hardest to convey his sympathy- a hurting loved one shared their pain with everyone.

"McGee what happened?" he asked as gently as he could over the mounting anger he felt coursing through his body.

"I'll explain on the way." They left with a cloud of unresolved anxiety hovering gloomily over them.

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"Ah, I see she woke early," Ducky smiled as he removed the IV line from her arm. He knew she had a hard problem with drugs of any sort, her body always fought abnormally hard against them and she had to ingest larger amounts then normal to get the desired effect; hence the copious amounts of Caf-Pow! in her system during most of her numerous waking hours. His smile dimmed slightly as he checked her temperature and noticed it was still elevated.

"Sarah, when was she last conscious?" Ducky asked as he took another blood sample from her and checked the wound he'd so tediously fixed that morning.

"Uh, she was talking to me right before I called you. Is everything ok? Has something just happened?" the slight panic edging her words made her rise to her feet and try to draw nearer to Abby's side. McGee gently placed his hand on her elbow to still her. She looked helplessly from her place on Abby's wall. Ducky was silent as he checked her vitals. The group continued to watch in silence, Sarah's question hung oppressively in the air. After another 20 minutes of anxious waiting, Ducky finally turned to face his friends.

"I don't want to say this, but if Abby continues on the way she is now, I'll be taking her to the hospital myself." McGee and Gibbs were instantly on their feet.

"What happened?" Gibbs demanded. Ducky shook his head.

"It's just the way her body is not responding to the antibiotics. It may just be my nerves over her well-being; they haven't quite had enough time to run their course. I'm just afraid that too much infection set in and I wasn't able to all of it out in time."

"When will we know?" McGee asked quietly.

"Let's give it another 2 hours. After that, we will re-dose and wait another 4 hours. If there is no change by 8:00 tonight, we should take her in." The three nodded at the plan and settled heavily back into their chairs. After a pensive three minutes, Gibbs rose swiftly from his chair and headed out of the bedroom.

"You two McGees follow me. Now." He said quietly. The quiet command in his voice startled Sarah and she was reminded of her time at NCIS when she was a suspect in that nightmare of her life. She shuddered but followed closely behind her brother anyway. Ducky was left staring at the strange mosaic that was Abby's door and hoping that by some miracle, everything would return to normal.

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The three sat uncomfortably in Abby's eclectic living room. Gibbs had seen the room many times but was still surprised by the knick-knacks that seemed to pop up in the strangest places. For example, she had a little figurine of a deranged looking monkey in the small philodendron that spilled from the antique birdcage swinging from the ceiling. He smirked at the monkey and received a ravenous stare for his efforts. Oh Abby. Gibbs looked at the young woman in front of him. She was staring at her feet, her leg bounced up and down nervously, and her arms crossed around her middle like a shield between her and the icy blues penetrating her mind.

"Sarah," he said after some silence. McGee shifted in his chair and continued to watch Gibbs and Sarah. Sarah looked up at Jethro briefly before returning her gaze to her socked feet. Gibbs tried to turn down some of the intensity.

"Sarah, I know you don't want to talk right now, but I need to know what happened." Sarah opened her mouth to talk but closed it again as she let out a quiet breath. He gently moved around the coffee table and sat beside her on the plush couch.

"Sarah, Abby may suffer more if you don't tell us what happened last night. She was attacked with a weapon and that weapon could have any number of things wrong with it that could make Abby sick. Don't you want to catch the guy that did this?" Sarah shook her head.

"I don't care about him; he's going to hell anyway. What could a knife have that could make Abby sick?"

"Sarah you are avoiding my question. I will answer yours if you answer mine." Sarah let out a shaky shudder and leaned back into the comfort of the couch. She caught a bit of Abby's scent on the throw that lazed over the back of the couch. Her resolve melted.

"Ah well, it's really not a long story…"her voice trailed off as she moved further into the corner of the couch. McGee was waiting on pins and needles. Part of him wanted to know so badly he didn't care if she broke down or never talked to him again. The other part wanted to hold her and help her as she cowered under Gibbs' interrogative techniques. It was her college nightmare all over again. He wouldn't let her fall as hard this time. Not anymore.


	8. Chapter 7: Two Rolly Chairs

Author's Note:

Another chapter down. Thank goodness! Sooooo, if anyone is still reading this, I am very sorry about the time in-between these chapters. I understand how annoying it is for a story to be forever long and have chapters come out randomly. Luckily not too much is going on in this story, it's mostly…feelings. Hahaha! Ok, enough rambling, thanks for reading! Also, if you are confused about that random italicized section, I was in a flashback kind of mood and decided Gibbs was going to have one. So, it's just a little out of story experience.

********************************************************************************************

McGee ran the scene of interrupting Gibbs through his head about a hundred times before he gently cleared his throat. Sarah's timid eyes shot over at him and then back to her feet. Gibbs let out the smallest of grunts. With a large breath, McGee joined his sister on the couch. The most unobtrusive way to comfort is to just 'be there.' He sat between his sister and the couch and placed an encouraging hand on her shoulder.

"It's ok Sarah. You are only helping if you let us know what happened." Sarah shook her head in agreement but continued to stare at her toes.

"But Abby told me that if I told you guys that you would hunt down the kid and she didn't want anyone going to jail. I actually agree with her on this one." Gibbs smirked. Abbey did know him too well.

"True as that may be, you still have to tell us what happened. We need to find that weapon." Sarah sighed but nodded again.

"I know." She paused, not sure where to start. She looked at McGee for guidance but Gibbs sensed her questions and started first.

"When did this happen?"

"Last night around 10:30 p.m. We were at Sixty-Eight Junction, on North and Congress. I dragged Abby there after about 3 hours of begging. She was really tired but I…" Sarah began to recede into herself but Gibbs reached for her hand and tried to keep her in the present.

"Sarah, look at me," Sarah's gaze met his eyes, "this is not your fault. This incident is the fault of some sick idiot with a death wish." Sarah smiled softly and let out a large sigh.

"Yea, she'd been really tired and wasn't up to partying but I begged and begged and she finally gave in. She knew I couldn't go to a club like that on my own. We arrived around 9. Boring story short, Abby left me to use the restroom and some guy who works at Junction started flirting with me. I was receptive at first but after a while it was clear what he wanted and I just wasn't going there with him." A look of approval graced Gibbs' features and Sarah smiled genuinely for the second time that day. McGee was practically humming with anticipation. She continued.

"I told him how I felt and after a lot of rejection he finally went away. He didn't even seem mad so I forgot about him quickly. When Abby returned we just had Cokes. After we danced for a while, I felt better and decided to freshen up. On my way to the bathroom, the guy from earlier grabbed me and shoved through other people and against the hallway wall. He told me that I should reconsider his offer. Of course he was drunk as hell, so I told him where to go. He shoved me into the wall again and told me to watch out, that he was really fast. I laughed that back into his face but he disappeared when he saw one of the bouncers coming over to check out the disturbance. When I went back to tell Abby what happened, we decided to leave right then. We left the club and walked straight to my car. I was waiting for Abby to find the keys, you know how she is with that, and the guy from earlier came out of nowhere and pushed me to the ground. He was yelling at me like a lunatic and Abby just lost it. She yelled at him and ran to my side, trying to push him back. He punched her in the face and pulled out his knife. She didn't fall like I would have; she just went at him again with her pepper spray. He screamed as Abby moved us back toward the club entrance and the bouncers. We were half way between the car and the club when he tackled Abby. She pitched forward and I screamed as loud as I could. One of the bouncers heard me and ran to help us. I kicked the drunk guy in the head while he was wrestling Abby on the ground and he fell to the side. He was just about to grab me when one of the bouncers tackled him. Abby hadn't moved from the ground and I was screaming about an ambulance. Another bouncer was trying to talk to me and check on Abby while he called the cops." Gibbs took the story in slowly. He had pictured the scene as clearly as he could with her description and despite Abby's condition he was amused and proud of her for defending herself and Sarah.

"That's really good Sarah. What happened while you waited for the ambulance? Why didn't Abby go the hospital in the ambulance?" Sarah had been prepared for this question.

"While I was next to her she told me she was fine and she had somewhere she needed to go. I asked why she didn't move off of the ground if she was ok and she told me to help her up but almost collapsed on me when we started moving. She had whimpered in pain and insisted it was her being wimpy over a few bruises. The bouncers told us to stay but Abby had already started moving toward the car. I didn't want to make her anymore upset; she'd just saved my life. All I could do was help her to the car. The bouncer followed us for a second and told us to wait for the police so they could arrest the guy but Abby told him he could be arrested for public intoxication and made us keep going. I didn't notice the blood until we were in the car. I begged her to let me take her to the hospital but she told me to go to some guy's tattoo shop."

"Why didn't you take her to the hospital anyway?" McGee asked already knowing the answer.

"I can't tell Abby no!" Both men blushed lightly as they looked away form Sarah. Ducky was the only one they knew that could tell her no and really mean it. Gibbs recovered first.

"Where was the blood?"

"It was dark, so at first I thought it was just a spilled drink from earlier. When I asked her about it she pulled her coat around her and told me to drive."

"How can you see a stain if it's dark?"

"There was a little light from the streetlamp a few rows away."

"To the left or right of the car?"

"In front of it."

"So you saw the stain while in the parking lot and you just started driving away. Where were you going?"

"I don't know. I thought I would take her to the hospital just to get checked out but she told me that she wanted to get a tattoo to commemorate the night. I ignored that request but she reached over and grabbed me by my wrist. I stopped the car and looked at her, her jacket had fallen open and we were slightly past the street lamp, there was more light in the car and I saw that her other hand was pressed to her side and blood was seeping between her fingers." Sarah's voice had quieted and her eyes took on a haunted expression. Gibbs was in full interrogator mode and was weary of a mood change.

"So you then decided to take her to get a tattoo?" Sarah's face jerked up to meet his and her eyes matched his in intensity.

"Really? You think I would do that to her? Of course I took her to get a tattoo! What the hell else was I going to do?" Sarah jumped out of her seat and started to pace in front of him.

"What do you think I am? I tried to take her to the hospital and she just got violent. I didn't want her to hurt herself anymore, so I took her where she wanted to go."

"A tattoo parlor?"  
" She said she had a friend who could stitch her up. That sounded like Abby so I went with it. What was I supposed to do?"  
" Take her to the hospital anyway!" Gibbs had gotten up now and was moments from storming Sarah's personal space when McGee fearfully placed a large hand on his shoulder.

"Boss," Gibbs turned swiftly and used all of his willpower to keep from punching McGee in the face.

"Damn it McGee!" Tim took two steps back and let Gibbs take a deep breath. Sarah moved between the two men.

"Stop fighting, please. Let's just sit back down before we wake Abby or Dr. Mallard gets upset."

"It's far too late for that." Ducky announced as he slipped into the room. The three watched as the ME rounded on them, his short legs moving faster than they had thought possible.

"All of you sit down, please. This situation is already difficult; we don't need to add to it with raging tempers." Tim and Sarah quietly resumed sitting on the couch, Gibbs got in Duck's face.

"This raging temper is working." Ducky scowled at his friend.

"This raging temper is also trying to work. Have a seat Jethro." Gibbs glared at the older man for a few moments before gingerly taking a space on the wall. Ducky rolled his eyes and turned to face Sarah.

"You said you wanted Abby to stop hurting herself. What does that mean?" Gibbs asked before Ducky could get his first word out. Sarah closed her eyes and crossed her arms around her middle again.

"She had a razorblade in her pocket. She cut at herself until I relented." The silence was thick as the three men took in the statement.

"I don't believe you." Gibbs finally said into the quiet. Sarah looked at him sadly.

"I wish you didn't have to." He looked to Ducky and the ME confirmed the statement with a small nod of his wise head. Gibbs cursed loudly and punched at the wall next to him as he let himself out of the apartment complex and into the cool November afternoon. The three watched as he slammed the door behind him.

"Should we go after him?" Sarah asked timidly.

"Not now child. He needs some time to make a plan." McGee jumped to his feet.

"We don't have time for him to pull it together. All the evidence in the parking lot is losing value the longer we don't move to collect it." He pulled out his cell phone and mock dialed Tony's number three times before actually placing the call. He let a long sigh escape as he let the phone ring.

"Probie! Where are you? Where's Gibbs? You are supposed to always be in contact! I believe that's rule number…"

"Tony! We have a problem." Tony sat up in his desk chair; McGee's tone was too strange for him to not take notice. Ziva, caught by Tony's shift in attitude, got up from her desk, and moved closed to DiNozzo's.

"What is it McGeek?"

"We have a crime scene to process ASAP."

"Right, is this case related?"

"New case. It's the parking lot of Sixty-Eight Junction…"

"Where's Gibbs? Why isn't he telling me this?" The feeling buzzing around Tony's heart was making him uncomfortable.

"Gibbs stepped out. He wants us to get on this case immediately, meet me there now."

"McGee,"

"What Tony?"

"What's the new case?"

"Parking lot brawl."

"That's a little out of our jurisdiction. Spit out what you're hiding Probie!" The anger DiNozzo so carefully stayed away from started to tinge his words and his vision.

"It's Abby, Tony. Meet me in 5." Tim hung up the phone and decided to get his things together and meet his team at the scene of the crime. At least he would be feeling proactive instead of waiting for something to happen. He said goodbye to those in the apartment and left quickly; his purpose renewed.

Tony sat at the desk for about five seconds with the phone still in his hand. At first he freaked about Abby, then he decided he would rip McGee a new one for hanging up on him.

"What happened Tony? You look pale." Ziva asked as she followed Tony's lead in gathering her badge and gun.

"Probie just told me we have a new crime scene."

"Why is that bad?"  
" He just said it's Abby." The two left without another word, worries running through their heads.

*********************************************************************************************

Gibbs had not been this angry in a long time. It was deeper than his usual melancholy, harsher than his everyday discontent. This type of anger boiled deep within his could and bubbled up with each fleeting thought on the subject. He took another sip of his bold coffee and continued to sit on the cold floor of his basement. His joints protested the position and the temperature but his mind was too far past reality to comprehend. He had not been this angry at Abby in a very long time. As a matter of fact, the only time he'd been this furious with her, had been when he'd found out that she'd done this before. It had been before she'd really started to work for NCIS.

_Gibbs found his way into the lab against his own free will. His gut had practically dragged him into the dark abyss before he'd really had a chance to think through all of what was happening. It was late, past midnight, and he fully expected the lab doors to be locked and the new lab tech to be gone, but when he went to the double doors they bid him swift entrance. He heard the music but was not distracted by it as he had been all week. The only thing he could focus on were the large green eyes staring incredulously at him from the icy linoleum at his feet. Her mouth had tried to form words, had opened, and shut several times, but no sounds could come out. The scalpel fell out of her hands, the sound shattering his concentration. _

"_What…" she had already started moving. Her slick hands used drawer pulls and the countertop for balance; her heavy shoes thud as she tried to move around him. He held up his hands._

"_Abby…" she didn't want to be there. She could not deal with this right now, not again. Her legs pulled her forward and she lunged toward her office but he was faster and he grabbed her firmly around the shoulders._

"_What the hell is going on in here?" he asked, his fear catching her off guard and making him sound angrier than he'd intended. She stuttered her excuses, each one not quite making it off of her tongue. Her blood dripped onto the floor around her shoes and grabbed her attention as he tried to question her._

_Gibbs would never understand self-harm. He'd seen marines do some pretty sick shit to themselves for this reason or another, but it was always to improve. Even through his training, he could not understand what a person was thinking when they decided to inflict pain on themselves as pain relief or anything else. He was struck by her lack of tears. _

"_Abby what were you thinking?" She would not meet his eyes but continued to watch her blood make patterns on the white beneath her. He followed her gaze and swore loudly as he gently pushed her onto her stool and went to find a med kit. He saw her poise to run the minute he turned his back._

"_If you so much as twitch, I will shoot you." Abby stilled and continued to look at her mangled forearms._

_The minutes ticked by in silence as he cleaned and dressed her arms. The majority of the cuts were light and made to bleed rather than make too much damage. The one closest to her wrist was the deepest. He looked over her entire arm, after more threats, and found more damage than he'd expected. Multiple lacerations covered both arms up to the shoulder, all in various degrees of healing. When he finished dressing her most recent injuries, he sat back in the chair he'd swiped from her office and stared at her. Abby squirmed underneath his gaze and continued to stare at her forearms. After another three minutes of the tense silence she couldn't take it anymore._

"_I'm really, really sorry. Thanks for your help. I'll gather my things and you won't have to see me anymore. I'll turn in my letter of resignation in the morning." With that she moved to stand but he grabbed her firmly by the arms and forcer he back down. He saw that it had hurt in her eyes but she said nothing. _

"_What the hell is so bad that you have to do that," he pointed to her arms, "to yourself?" he demanded. The responses were birthed and died on her lips. _

"_I don't know. Look, I said I was sorry and I'll leave. What more do you want?"  
"You're not sorry! If you were sorry you wouldn't keep doing that to yourself." She stared at him and then rested her eyes back on the floor. Gibbs was in new territory. This wasn't one of his agents. He couldn't just smack her around or yell at her the way he did Stan. He knew she was different, more fragile then even she knew. He tentatively reached out and clasped one of her pale hands in his._

"_You can't do this to yourself anymore." She refused to look at him._

"_Why would you do this?" He saw her lip quiver and his heart skipped a beat. No matter how many times he saw it, a quivering lip always reminded him of Kelly. He continued to look imploringly at her until she shattered._

"_I'm just really sorry," she whispered as she brought her legs up onto the stool seat with her. Her arms wrapped tightly around her knees and she rested her face away from Gibbs' prying eyes. _

"_Don't tell me sorry. You're not hurting me. You need to tell your arms sorry. Tell yourself sorry." She looked at him over her kneecaps, and glanced at her forearms. _

"_Sorry arms." He knew it was supposed to be more sarcastic but he could hear that her spirit was too broken to put any joy into it. His arms found their way around her shaking figure and he held her awkwardly between two rolly chairs for a long time. He mostly remained silent, speaking only when she started to apologize again. That night had begun the closest relationship that Gibbs had had to a woman since his wife and daughter had left Earth for a softer place in Heaven._

Gibbs had often remembered that day with a bittersweet gleam. It had been the day that he'd really met Abby and he'd opened his heart to her ever since. That chance meeting in the lab had been the start to the second longest friendship he'd had since moving on from his past. That incident had also been when he'd realized that he wasn't the only one suffering and that he could live to love other people again.

With an angry sigh he flung the cup he'd been using at the wall in front of him. He watched it hit and spin but not break on the hard cement.

"Right." He muttered as he got to his feet and tried to rub some life back into his sore joints.


	9. Chapter 8: Never Mind

Author's Note:

Another chapter. There shouldn't be too many more now, I kinda changed directions on where this was going...a few times. I'm actually hoping to have this all completed and posted before the end of the summer. Fingers crossed. Reviews welcome and appreciated!

* * *

Tony hated waiting. Ziva hated it even more. As soon as McGee pulled into the parking lot of Sixty-Eight Junction the two impatient agents were on his hide. Ziva had yanked the car door open before the car had even made a complete stop.

"Ziva!" Tim yelled as he hurried to put the car into park and turn off the ignition. Tony laughed lightly under his breath at her eagerness to get to the bottom of the mystery, then took to harrying his Probie out of the car seat.

"McGee you have two seconds to explain yourself or so help me…"

"Tony, Jesus, I'm sorry! I know that was a terrible way to…"

"McGee, what happened? Where is Abby?" Ziva cut in, not in the mood for pleasantries. Calmly, Tim stood up from the car and filled them in on the highlights of the last 24 hours. They listened intently and by the end they managed to look shocked, disheartened, and ready to kill at the same time - really quite a feat.

"Please don't ask me why or for any fine details right now. I'm still trying to piece things together myself." Tony sighed heavily and laid a calming hand on McGee's back.

"I'm sorry Probie, but just know, we will fix this and everything is going to be ok." Ziva was only slightly surprised at Tony's sudden change in demeanor. She'd seen it plenty of times; it was just so strange every time it happened. She nodded her head eagerly in agreement with DiNozzo and reached out her arms in question for a hug. McGee consented and he was instantly warmed by the strength and promise in her embrace.

"Well, let's get to work!" DiNozzo announced after a few seconds of silence. His partners smirked at his lack of comfort with PDA and moved to get their things together.

"Supposedly the attack occurred…" McGee began.

* * *

Sarah felt an urge to follow Gibbs and give him a piece of her mind, or her fist. The same thought applied to her brother too. With a fierce glare directed at the front door she flopped unceremoniously onto the couch. Ducky smirked as he took a more guided seat on the catawampus armchair. He watched as the young woman tried to release her frustration and anger by sighing heavily and crossing her arms, essentially having a very controlled fit.

"You'll never feel better doing that. Mother's done it for years and she still ends up either breaking or purchasing something expensive."

"What's the most expensive thing in here?" She answered without looking at him. A quiet chuckle was his only response. Sarah, surprised that he chose to find the humor in the statement instead of scolding her, giggled lightly until she relaxed into the sofa.

"What just happened Dr. Mallard?"

"Ducky if you don't mind my dear and, I'll need you to clarify. A lot has just happened."

"Why did Tim leave like that? He knows I want to help," her question bordering on whining.

"Tim needs something to do, something to take his mind away from the here and now. These feelings, emotions, this situation is too far from his comfort zone. Evidence, calculations, solving problems- those are all in his wheel house. You cannot do any of these things either, hence you being here with me." Sarah nodded along with his explanation because she had already known the answer.

"Gibbs?"

"You may have noticed he and Abby have some history. He's hurt and possibly scared. People like Abby don't usually get hurt where we work."

"Like Abby...scientists?"

"Yes. Our field agents and other public faces take most of the heat. We lowly scientists and doctors are hidden in the belly. Safe." Sarah didn't really care about the answers. She knew she couldn't' change any of the questions so it didn't matter.

"So what are we supposed to do now?"

"I have a few questions for you actually." She lightly bit down on the bottom of her lip before nodding at him to continue.

"What exactly has been going on?"

"That may take a while to explain. Anything specific?" Ducky looked at her for a moment trying to decide if she was being either smart, defensive, or cooperative. He decided to expect all three and hope for the latter.

"Why were you having secret contact with Abby?" Sarah was surprised that he has asked her so directly seeing as how she had explained the least of preceding events to him.

"Well, it kinda happened really randomly," Ducky bit his tongue to keep from interrupting her with why she was probably incorrect in her use of the word random here, "one night in October. I was lonely and was playing with my phone, scrolling through my contacts. I remember feeling really proud and disgusted that I had so many people on my phone. While I scrolled, the phone slipped in my hand and I caught it before it fell but the squeezing caused it to dial a number. Abby picked up."

"What did you want with her?"

"That night I was so surprised I didn't know what to say. I didn't really know Abby and was a little wary of her because of the relationship that she and Tim shared, they've an interesting history,"

"To say the least," Ducky added. She smirked as she nodded in agreement.

"As a matter of fact, the last time Tim had come to visit me he'd brought her and I had been less than polite." Sarah rolled her eyes at the memory of calling Abby a few choice names and slipping salt in her ice cream that long afternoon.

"Well what happened during that first call?"  
"She listened. I'd had a few...quite a few glasses of wine and when I figured out that's who I'd called I started to lay into her for her previous relationship with Timmy. Instead of defending herself or anything, she just listened to me rant. Somewhere in that rant I started to apologize and I ended up talking to her for an hour and a half about myself and my problems. She ended the call with me promising to call her whenever I needed to talk again. " Sarah quieted as she thought in shame on that fateful phone call.

"So you continued to call her on the phone when you were upset and she listened to you as a good friend? What changed to make this relationship unhealthy for the both of you?"

"You sound just like my therapist," she answered instead. To stall the interrogation even more, she padded into the kitchen to retrieve another piece of the pizza that had been delivered earlier that afternoon. Without asking, she brought Ducky a slice of the pizza and resumed her seat on the couch.

"Well this is unexpected , though, I thought I smelled oregano when I returned. Which restaurant made this?" Ducky asked jovially before he took a bite of pizza to appease her. Sarah was so surprised he'd allowed her to stop answering questions she had to go and look at the box again to answer his query. They ate in silence for a few moments before Ducky began to prattle a story about his time in an Italian pizza maker's shop when he was a young man traveling about Spain. When Sarah placed her plate on the coffee table, Ducky ended his tale and mirrored her movements. He didn't question her again, only waited for her to make the next move.

"I called her numerous times after that and loved having her listen to me. I realized I was calling her at all sorts of strange hours because I remember calling her mostly after going out. There are also a number of calls I don't remember making. " Sarah blushed crimson as she admitted her failures. " One night she just appeared at my front door. We talked for hours. She knew that something was wrong but instead of calling me on it or making me see a doctor she listened to me talk and was just nice to me. I mean she tried to get me to talk to my family and professionals of course, but I wouldn't do it and she admitted that she thought it was better that I was at least talking to someone instead of keeping everything inside. I loved that meeting so much that I wanted her to come back. She seemed surprised but grateful? I don't know, but she agreed to visit again. Occasionally I visited her when she and Tim didn't live together as often. One night...is there a particular reason that I am telling this to you?" Ducky smiled.

"Well, we have time to pass and I want to understand what has happened with my Abigail. I need to understand her... other injuries. She needs help." He tactfully left out the 'and so do you' part.

"As I mentioned earlier I've been seeing a counselor."

"How long?"

"Maybe two weeks? I tried to drag Abby to a session but that didn't work out."

"Well that was a very smart move young lady. I am also a trained psychologist and can listen if you don't mind." Sarah had figured as much when he was so calm and able to direct their conversations without controlling them.

"Right. Well, one night I confessed that I thought I drank too much. Of course she tried to get me to explain what I meant by that. I'd developed a pretty good 'sober' persona and was never plastered when Abby and I spoke in person. She must have understood my being slightly buzzed when she saw me on the weekends or something because she could always tell when I'd been drinking but she'd never pressed beyond that. After I made that confession she tried to get me to talk about why I drank and stuff like that. I shut her out until she changed the subject. When she left that night she tried to make me come back with her so I could 'clear my head' and what not, but I didn't want to leave my classes even though I was royally fucking them all up.

Not too long after that I had stopped going to class regularly and had spent the last two days holed up in my house with all my alcohol. After drinking for two days with little food or water I was delirious and my depression was exacerbated. I thought I was going to kill myself with alcohol. I found my phone in one of my waking frenzies and dialed Abby by some amazing luck and told her to come visit me. She tried to get out of it, it was three in the morning and had not been home long from work but I threatened her with drinking until she got there. I drank from the bottle I was holding and the next thing I remember she was hovering over me, trying to wake me up. She saved me that day."

* * *

The late autumn sun blazed into his eyes as he emerged from his cool, dark house and into the cooler air. Today would have been a good day to fish. He smirked at the thought, he hadn't taken a break to go fishing in years. He mentally added to his To-Do list once he'd finally been forcedly removed from NCIS headquarters. He felt the buzz in his jacket pocket and answered before he registered that he was on the phone.

"Gibbs."

"Boss, we're at the crime scene. The main suspect is here. Proceed in apprehension?" DiNozzo's frighteningly serious voice greeted him. Gibbs knew that they were not talking about the case that they had just received that morning, the one that they were supposed to be working on at that very moment.

"Do you have a warrant?"

"Are we really taking him in?"

"DiNozzo..." He heard a muffled voice in the background.

"McGee says he should be here all day and we can come back later. I say we..."

"DiNozzo, just make sure he doesn't leave." Gibbs ended the call and entered the Dodge, letting his gut take him where he should really be at the moment. While he let his body drive, he let his mind wonder over the past few hours. What had happened with his girl?

* * *

DiNozzo snapped his phone shut and leaned against the hood of the car.

"He said don't let him leave. By the sound of it he's on his way over." Ziva smirked at her partner's ability to pout over the smallest things. She watched as he glared toward the bar entrance.

"I don't think burning holes into the bar with your eyes will help," she offered quietly. Tony slowly took his stare away from the bar and down to Ziva. A light smile graced his features.

"You finally got one right," was her only answer.

"Ass," she muttered as she made her way to McGee, who was now sitting in his own passenger seat. She slid into the driver's side and allowed him to break the silence.

"I think she tried to explain this situation with my sister to me a few weeks ago in this very seat." McGee stared dejectedly out the windshield. A space of silence passed before she answered.

"Knowing Abby, there are a number of ways she may have tried to explain. If she wasn't direct it would be very difficult to come to this conclusion."

"Knowing Abby, she probably told me a hundred times in a hundred ways and I just couldn't get it." Ziva did not want to argue with him, she was well learned in the lesson of never arguing with a person in pain. Instead she placed a firm hand on Tim's fists.

"You are probably right. Abby is as hard to read sometimes as anything, but we cannot dwell on that right now. She is strong, you are strong, we are strong. Together, we can make it, ok?" The power and conviction in her words startled him as much as the person it was coming from. He could remember when she had not shown so much emotion. She'd always been kind, but her real emotions were rarely left unchecked. He also remembered the day that Abby had rudely pointed that out to her; and her apologies. McGee let out a shuttering breath and smiled lightly.

"Thanks, Ziva." Not poetic, but truer than Gibbs' icy blues. She rubbed the back of his hand warmly, then reached to turn his face to hers.

"Dwell later," she repeated and went to harass Tony. McGee hit his head on the headrest a few times to regain focus.

"McGee, are we sure this is our perp?" Tony asked sticking his head into the driver's side window.

"Why wouldn't it be? Sarah said he works here so..."

"Well if the other bouncers caught this guy attacking the girls and they called the police, what makes you think he isn't in the precinct somewhere or at home, sleeping off alcohol? If he was attacked with pepper spray he might be at the hospital somewhere still. Why would he be at work?" Tim grunted in surprise that he hadn't thought of that.

"That's what I thought. Good thing I already called the boys in blue and had him prepared for a few questions. Gibbs is heading over there now." Tim clenched and unclenched his hands a few times before answering. If he was this off on something so basic, he was truly afraid of what he would do if he was face to face with this guy.

"You guys go on ahead. I want to check the parking lot and question some of the employees before we go. We need to make a solid case against this idiot before we have to get legal involved." Tony was not overly pleased in leaving Tim alone at the moment, but his ideas made sense.

"Why doesn't Ziva stay here and help you bag and tag some more and I will meet Gibbs at the station?"

"Ziva will want to question him too..."

"Don't worry McGee. I think Gibbs will take up most of that time, and I have the tendency to encourage his...exciting sessions. DiNozzo is better at reasoning with Gibbs."

"I am?" Tony smirked at the two and headed for the company car. "Don't have too much fun while I'm gone!"

Ziva and Tim rolled their eyes as they watched the blue sedan drive away.

"Shall we start with questioning the witnesses or looking over this parking lot for evidence?"

"Evidence. That's what I came out here to do anyway. We need to be quick before they send someone out here to ask why we're basically loitering." McGee answered as he stepped out of the car and into the bright sun.

"There's only one person here, Tim. He's probably the manager or clean-up. Bars like this are only open at night." Tim lowered his head as he snapped on a disposable glove.

"Ok, ok I know I'm distracted but..." Ziva shushed him.

"We will scan this parking lot, talk to the guy inside and rendezvous with Gibbs and DiNozzo. Then you will go home and get some sleep so you will not become a liability." Her words were harsh but truthful and he merely nodded in acknowledgement and started to walk towards the doors of the place.

"Let's give Gibbs something to work with."

* * *

Gibbs counted to ten and back to one three times before entering the interrogation room. Half of him wasn't sure why he was here. If he'd had it his way, he would've grabbed this guy of the street, taken him to a deserted place, ripped him a new one, and maybe, just maybe let his ass get carted away by the authorities later. The reasonable side, generally the smaller, quieter part, calmly explained that a confession on tape would be helpful when Abby and Sarah decided to press charges. It would also look better to all parties involved if this at least started out in a perfectly legal manner. If the guy was held in jail, any abuses could be blamed on other prisoners. Perhaps the reasonable side had spent too long crammed in with the boisterous 'unreasonable' side.

"Hey DiNozzo how long is this gonna take. He's been staring at this guy for a good seven minutes. This was kind of a last minute favor, he was about to be released." The older cop complained as they watched Gibbs and the criminal through the one way mirror. Tony sighed lightly.

"Not so sure. Usually the perp breaks..." he froze for a few seconds, " ...now."

* * *

"She saved you?" Ducky asked. He worked to keep his tone light and clinical, as his body began to dance on pins and needles with dread and the anticipation of her answers.

"Yes, helped me regain consciousness, was able to get me to...release a good portion of alcohol, and not die. I'm relatively sure I got alcohol poisoning that night because I've never been so sick from it. Sick all weekend. Abby stayed by my side the whole time."

"She didn't go home?" He frantically racked his brain trying to think of a weekend he hadn't seen Abby in order to get a better timeline in his head. Her arms contained fresh cuts when he checked them earlier, but some were in different stages of healing. The ones on her wrists worried him the most. Sarah played with the paper plate in her hands.

"No. She got there Thursday night and I don't remember saying goodbye until Sunday evening. Of course, most of that weekend is pretty sketchy in my memory." Ducky was thrown a little off center. Abby not being at work or home for an entire three days and him unaware? This was unusual. If she had a trip or anything related to an event where she wouldn't be at work or home she was quite vocal about it.

"Do you remember when this was?" He broke down and asked. Sarah looked up at him.

"Why?"

"A very valid question. Was it more October?"

"Dr. Mallard,"

"Ducky if you please."

"Why is time important? What...oh. I don't know when she started cutting either." she finished very softly.

"Sarah," Ducky sighed, afraid he may have shut her down, " Abby's coping mechanism is not your fault. She may have been doing these things far before you called her. We have a high stress job and she's been in not a few relationships besides your brother." Sarah's eyes snapped to his.

"Never overlapping of course." he added quickly.

"Of course not! She's not a whore, " she sensitively left off the' like me' part, "How can you say that? I am every reason that woman has to be depressed."

"Does that not sound...arrogant?" he asked in an effort to keep her talking. She had the presence of mind to blush lightly.

"It does, but I'm not bragging or anything like that. I just know that Abby seemed relatively happy before me and after spending so much time with me she's not." Ducky wasn't quite sure what to say to that. She could have been very right, but she could have been wrong. He'd seen Abby down many times since March after she and Tim had broken up again - over another woman. They sat in silence for a short while, each collecting their thoughts and remembering less dismal times.

"Uh, I think that particular weekend was Halloween weekend." Sarah answered quietly. Well that would explain it. That holiday was practically sacred to Abby. She would have taken leave since the team wasn't on call.

"Ducky? Are any of her scars...do they seem...about a month old?" He thought this over and chose his next words carefully.

"It is possible. What would be significant about that time?" She opened her mouth a few times before closing it and sinking further into the couch.

"Nevermind. I don't want to talk about this anymore."


	10. Chapter 9: An MIT Shirt

A/N - I apologize. I suck at updates and I appreciate all of the support I've received from such wonderful readers. I'm hoping to wrap this story up in the next few chapters. If you have any suggestions please leave them in a review! Thank you!

* * *

**C.9**

"Damn, it's bright," he muttered again. McGee used his hand to shield his eyes from the rays of the sun as he continued to study the ground in front of him. Ziva snorted her exasperation at hearing him complain about it again.

"You're wearing sunglasses as it is. How can it still be too bright?" She challenged as she snapped a few more pictures.

"I don't know. It's November in D.C., it should be gray or something. This bright sun is too much."

"I'm going to go with you just being exhausted. Now shut up and work." He grunted a response and continued to check the grid work that they'd laid. Twenty minutes later they began to pack away their equipment and prepare for entrance into the club.

"You think there's going to be something in here to work with?"

"As an agent you must always find something to work with," Ziva replied curtly as she rewound the grid string. McGee worked his bottom lip for a moment and glanced at the bar ahead of them.

"Don't you find it strange that the guy in the bar hasn't come out yet?" McGee asked as he hauled the equipment bag into the car. Ziva nodded her head and put the camera away.

"I guess we'll get to ask him now anyway." She said. The two drove the car to the entrance of the bar; experience had taught them to always have a fast get away available at all times. Ziva took point as they knocked on the partially open, wooden doors. McGee cringed slightly at the red paint on the door, it reminded him of blood. Abby's blood. He decided not to go down that path and averted his eyes to the pavement beneath him. After receiving no answer but hearing definite music and movement, Ziva decided to let them in. With hands on holstered weapons, the pair entered the darkened bar.

"Hey!" someone shouted. Ziva drew her gun and pointed in the direction of the voice. McGee, whether out of fatigue or choice, decided to keep his weapon in place.

"Whoa lady! Put that thing away, I didn't do anything!" the voice- now embodied by a late twenties, striking dark-skinned man- yelled in surprise. Ziva saw that both his hands were up in the universal 'peace/shield' position and slightly lowered her weapon.

"I'm sorry, sir. We knocked..."

"Who are you with?" he asked, voice calmer but still loud.

"NCIS," McGee answered, " we would just like to ask you a few questions about an incident that occurred at this establishment last night. It involved..."

"Two women? One a Goth and the other a little younger? Brunette, I think?" the man interrupted.

"Yes," both agents answered. The man visibly relaxed and began to move towards the nearest bar counter.

"Let's have a seat. I'm going to stick my hand in my pocket and pull out the remote to the stereo, ok?" he said before he completely turned around. Ziva nodded her consent and moved to follow the man. The two agents stood in front of the bar and waited for the man behind the counter to get situated. After they declined his offer for a drink, they waited for him to open a small can of fruit juice and sit on a high stool.

"You're sure you don't want a seat?" he asked.

"Are we going to need one? We would just like to ask you a few questions." Ziva answered. The man shrugged.

"What would you like to know?"

"Let's start with your name and position, please." McGee asked.

"Oh, sorry. My name is Charles Green and I own this place." Ziva quirked a slight brow.

"You're a little young to own such a large club. Do you have a partner?" He smiled wide, showing perfect, white teeth.

"Actually no. I bought this place all by myself. It's definitely grown over the years, but it's all mine. Also, thank you for the compliment. Now, what happened to those two women? Are they all right?" Both agents weren't sure whether to answer or not. If they gave away too many details, he could spin the information he was going to give. Ziva recovered first.

"How were they when you last saw them?" The smile left his face and it turned very serious.

"I have to admit that I didn't see them after the attack. I saw them earlier in the evening; gave them some complimentary Cokes."

"Oh?" McGee asked.

"The younger one explained that she didn't want anything to get in the way of her fun dance night and the Goth said she was driving. I commended them both for partying without alcohol and gave them a couple Cokes. Alcoholism is rampant in my family and after my sister died from it, I don't even touch the stuff."

McGee paled at the idea of the sister's death. It could have very well been his own sister. Ziva saw this and continued for him.

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Thank you for your concern." Ziva nodded as she continued.

"Well, what can you tell us about the 'attack', as you called it, last night?"

"Unfortunately, I didn't see any of it. I only have what my employees told me. What I do know is that one of my bouncers, Mark Spencer, went after those two women in the parking lot sometime after 10 o'clock. He had a weapon and both women made contact with him in the parking lot. Two bouncers went to help, another one came to inform me of the problem. I instructed him to call the police and ran down to see what I could do. By the time I got there, Mark was being restrained by Tay and the two women were nowhere to be seen."

"How long did it take you to get to the parking lot?" McGee asked quickly. Charles thought about it for a moment.

"Maybe five minutes from when I was informed. Eddie had to find me in this club. As you can see, it has two levels. Add flashing lights, loud music, and partiers on a Thursday night and you can see it may have taken some time for me to get through to the exit. I'm not sure how long it took for Eddie to find me either..."

"He must have been somewhat quick if the authorities hadn't arrived yet." Ziva cut in.

"Well I made sure he called after he found me. It can take the cops some time to get out to the clubs during the weekends."

"So you didn't see the women being attacked or the man attacking them?"

"Sorry no. I was working inside here at the time." Ziva was a little surprised to see that Charles really did look upset at this.

"What happened when you got to the parking lot?" McGee asked.

"Tay told me what he saw. Hector confirmed. I reprimanded them for not making the women wait for the police and an ambulance."

"Why did you think an ambulance was needed?"

"There was blood on Mark. I just assumed not all of it was his."

"What happened after that?" Charles ducked his head ever so lightly.

"I must admit that I hit Mark in the face, twice. I was too angry. Hector had to pull me back. The police got there not too long after that and we told them what happened. They said they couldn't arrest him for the attack because the women weren't present to press charges, but they could take him in for public intoxication. He attempted to try and press charges on me for attacking him, but neither of the guys would corroborate his story. After he left we went back to regular business. I called the area hospitals to see if anyone matching those descriptions went to the ER, but no one had seen them, or at least not the people I described." McGee and Ziva nearly nodded in unison and gave surprised looks at the last statement.

"You seem to care for them a lot. Didn't you just meet them?" Ziva looked calculating.

"I had met them just that night yes, but they were nice. They also made an odd pair. The Goth was so tall and intense in her makeup and clothes. The younger girl looked really shy and small next to her. She also had a lot of hair. I didn't see them try to do anything crazy, they just wanted to have a nice time and I really try to attract people like that. I also want people to feel safe when they come here. Something like this is the kind of bad PR I'd like to stay away from. Which is why, " he rose from the stool, threw the now empty can away, and moved out from behind the bar, " I will give you the tapes from the parking lot cameras." Both Ziva and McGee almost started gaping at him. They had looked that building over many times and had not found cameras. They followed Charlie as he lead them up the stairs and to a room marked V.I.P Lounge. Inside the room was another door, carefully painted to match the wall.

"This is my office." The room was small, but comfortable and bright. It even had a small window. The desk had three flat screen monitors arranged around a small area of desk for paperwork. Charles dug through a drawer to find a jump drive and began to download footage from the computer. McGee went around the desk and looked at the set up in appraisal.

"This looks expensive." Charles smiled again.

"It was. _Very_ expensive, but it's been worth it. These cameras have come through for me several times." He saw the question in their eyes and answered before they could ask.

"They are in the walls and masked to not have a glare . I have false shapes over them. The shapes look like window cut outs and decoration to the building. In reality, they are just hollowed out places that house the regular cameras. I angled them a bit and bubbled the glass, so they still have a full range of motion."

"I'm impressed." McGee finally answered.

"I studied architecture at Penn State before I switched to business. I still have some contacts." He handed the jump drive to McGee.

"I was going to take that down to the station after I finished up in here. I'd been hoping someone would call and tell me about those two, but no one else has contacted me." Ziva looked at her watch.

"Well thank you for your time Mr. Green. You've been very cooperative. If you have any questions or you remember anything else, please call at anytime." She handed him her card.

"Also, could you give us the names of all your employees?" she added. He nodded and printed a document. After it printed, he began to star some names.

"These are the people that worked last night. Tayvion Michaels, Hector Lopez , and Eddie Hart were the bouncers that witnessed the incident."

"Thank you. We'll see ourselves out." McGee answered.

"You're welcome." Charles watched them walk out of the office before he called after them. He met them in the doorway.

"If you find those women, please tell them I'm sorry. Also, I hope they get better and to let me know if they need anything. My information is on that employee sheet and here's my card. Let me know if you have more questions. You can come by later to see Eddie. Tay and Hector are off tonight." The agents nodded and continued to leave. Once outside and in the car they let out a shared sigh.

"That was strange. He was almost too nice." McGee muttered as he started the car.

"Agreed, but I want to believe him," he picked up his vibrating cell from his coat pocket and checked the message, "Tony wants us to meet at headquarters." The trip to NCIS was silent as they thought about what Gibbs may have found and the information they now had.

* * *

Sarah jumped from the couch and hurriedly collected their paper plates for trash. Ducky stared at the still swinging kitchen door's lack of artwork. He made a mental note to ask Abby about that as he gingerly removed himself from the straight backed chair he'd occupied. Glancing at his timepiece, he decided to check on his dearest patient. The darkness of her room nearly surprised him.

"Those curtains are certainly effective, " he muttered as he cautiously moved toward her bedside. With the bed table light flooding the room, he was stricken by her waning reflection. A quick check of her temperature and pulse confirmed what he'd feared.

"Sarah," he called "I need you to help me with Abigail."

* * *

"Hey buddy, I know I'm pretty but there's no reason to just sit and stare. It's rude" Mark began. The sardonic smirk on his face made DiNozzo's hands clench and twist. Gibbs continued to stare.

"Are you deaf? Quit lookin' like that," the teasing tone in the first statement was replaced by an annoyed one. Gibbs' stare turned into a glare with the subtlest of muscle movement. The other man sighed loudly.

"If this is what you came to do, I have an appointment to get to." Gibbs adjusted his files on the table.

"Where were you last night between the hours of 7p.m. and 2 a.m.?" He intoned. The smirk twitched at the corners but remained.

"I was working."

"And where do you work?"

"At a night club." Mark's smirk remained.

"Care to be more specific?" The criminal paused for a moment, unsure whether to answer truthfully or not.

"No," he grunted out. Gibbs was not impressed.

"Look, is there a reason I'm being held in here? I've never been called into questioning for public intoxication before. You people don't have any legal..."

"Mr. Spencer we have reason to believe that you were involved in a little dispute between two women last night in the parking lot of your 'club.' Any reason why we should or shouldn't believe that?" The annoying smirk left his face completely.

"Where did you hear that?" Gibbs smiled inwardly. It was almost sad when they were this easy and stereotypical. He leaned forward over the table and for some reason the other man's natural sense of self preservation didn't kick-in because he leaned forward too.

"Why did you hurt those girls?" the formality of his tone faded. Mark squinted his eyes.

"What are you talking about? I didn't touch any girls last night." He had the nerve to look self satisfied. On the other side of the mirror, DiNozzo spent a great deal of effort counting backwards and forwards to ten.

"What was it about the brunette that made you want her so much? It must have been her hair. Girls with long hair like that just want to be touched, right?" Gibbs was answered with silence.

"It must have been her face. She's real pretty. Nice lips. Big brown eyes..."

"What are you, fuckin' queer? Did you see her ass?" Gibbs suppressed his initial response of a sharp right cuff to the back of the head.

"Ah. What did she do that made you want to hurt her?" Mark laughed.

"I didn't do a damn thing to that bitch! What did she say? Is she here? She's a fuckin' liar!" Mark's temper began to flare. Gibbs knew that another second in that room was going to find him in contempt of something and unable to get prosecution on this...man. He looked at his phone and strolled out. Once Gibbs was behind the mirror he let out a slow breath, his hands flexing in and out of fists.

"Pin him DiNozzo."

* * *

"Sarah, help me move her," Ducky grunted as he went to gather the tall woman at her shoulders. Sarah rushed into the room and quickly grabbed onto Abby's excessively warm body.

"To the bathtub," Ducky panted. As much as he hated to admit to weakness, he was not as sturdy as he once was and Abby's height was considerable for a woman. His worry increased the adrenaline gliding through his veins though, and with a good heave, he had her up and into the bath tub in moments. They laid her out gently. Sarah nervously began to remove Abby's sweats while Dr. Mallard ran the cold water.

"I take it her fever didn't break." Ducky shook his head as she moved to remove Abby's undergarments.

"Those don't have to come off and no, as a matter of fact, it spiked. I'd hoped for just a slight fever to aid her body but this is too high. We need to break it before we do anything else." With the tub sufficiently full, Ducky began to palm water over her head.

"Keep doing that until I return. If her lips change color, yell." With that, Dr. Mallard went to find some acetametaphin, as his bottle was mockingly sitting on the counter in Autopsy. Poking through Abby's cabinets was definitely an exercise in control. As he went through her unreasonably bare kitchen cabinets, the ball of worry that had settled in his stomach since early this morning began to roll. He wondered why all of her cabinets had dishes and pans, even common lab equipment, but no food. With resignation he opened her refrigerator and stared at the emptiness in front of him. He rummaged through the rest of the kitchen only to find a few various food items. Ducky's rational side explained to him that the lack of food in the house was common for a young woman who worked frequently. That she probably bought groceries only as needed or bi weekly and because of this hadn't been to the store. The 'mother hen' side clucked worry after worry. It explained that he had not been imagining how small he thought Abby had been looking, that her clothes were not looser because of some ridiculous fashion. With a slow breath, he pushed his worries aside and moved to the bathroom again to check on his patients and to find medicine. He was greeted into the small but clean room with Abby's whimpers of displeasure. He cooed in sympathy as he went through the few drawers and one cabinet in the room. Finally, hiding at the bottom of the lowest drawer behind a strange array of junk, Ducky found a small bottle of Tylenol.

"Why would Abby even have this? She knows a dosage this low would have a mild effect on her, if any," Ducky pondered as he shook out the amount of pills he wanted.

"I'm surprised she even has that bottle. She told me she would only keep one bottle on hand for me, that she didn't use drugs." Ducky rolled his eyes at Sarah's input.

"Damn it Abby," he muttered as he forced the pills down her throat. By the third pill she began to regain some consciousness. Abby tried to scream as she felt something in her throat and the terrible cold all around her. Sarah's hand was instantly holding on to hers.

"Abby don't struggle! You're ok. You have a high temperature and we need to bring it down." Sarah's voice was low and as soothing as she could make it. Abby calmed for a moment until she recognized that that there was a pill in her mouth. She panicked. Her whole body convulsed in her attempt to get the pill out of her mouth. In surprise, Ducky let go of the back of her head, letting it slam into the water behind her. Abby bolted upright, gasping and wheezing as water rushed onto the floor and her nurses. Sarah shouted Abby's name in shock. In an amazing display of athleticism, Abby twisted and hefted her cold body out of the tub. She stumbled over Ducky and Sarah and got two large strides in before she fell hard onto the wet tile beneath her.

"Abby!" Sarah shouted as she hurried to the woman's side. She settled slightly behind her as space in the bathroom was at a premium.

"Are you hurt? Let me help you up," Sarah reached for Abbey's shoulders.

"Wait! I need to see if she reinjured anything. She fell directly on her torso." Dr. Mallard cautiously stepped over her body and to her head where it was resting on the thresh hold between bathroom and bedroom.

* * *

DiNozzo popped his knuckles one last time in his only outward display of nervousness before he opened the door to interrogation, a manila folder tucked firmly under his arm. Mark leaned back in his seat. The anger that had forced Gibbs to leave the room for actual fear of loss of control seemed to hang over the man.

"The old man have to change his diaper?" he asked acidly. DiNozzo smiled.

"Uh no. You are almost finished in here Mr. Spencer. Just a few more questions." Tony saw the man relax slightly.

"What were you doing last night around say ten and then on?" Mark scowled at him.

"Look. I already told this to the other guy. You people need to tell me why I'm still here before I get a lawyer and the media involved in this." DiNozzo had to give the guy credit for being the most narcissistic in the room. Tony took the chance to lean back in his chair too. Then he sat up quickly and looked at Mark with what he hoped was a slightly pervy, completely curious face.

"So what was she like? The girl with the ass," he asked with a lowered voice. Mark looked surprised but tried to cover it with a wicked grin.

"She was hot. Nice ass but small boobs. Wasn't too bad in the face. Would have been happy to test that ass out till she started acting like a little bitch." Mark realized his error and slammed his fist on the table. Before he could begin his volley of complaints Tony cut him off.

"Brunette or blond? I like the blonds myself." Mark sat quietly in his chair unsure of what the cop was playing at. Tony looked over at him.

"Look. I was taken off of my lunch break to come talk to you. I don't want to be in here anymore than you do. Can I at least get some enjoyment from picturing a woman that is not my nagging girlfriend?" Mark chuckled darkly despite his agitation.

"Bitches are annoying. Sorry your dick boss is making you miss lunch. I don't get any either." Tony was slightly surprised at Mark's sentiments but hid it by rubbing his fingers though his hair.

"The brunette was nice. The little friend with her was pretty damn hot too. All dark and shit," Mark said.

"Black?"

"No, Goth, vampire girl. She looked like she was a real good time. Nice body once she took her stupid coat off." Tony cracked his toes in an effort to control his urge to pop his knuckles.

"Goth isn't really my type," Tony answered.

"Oh you would have liked her anyway. She had that look on her face that all women have when they just need to get fucked. They will do anything." Tony ducked his head in what he hoped would look like he was covering a blush. He ran his fingers through his hair again to keep from striking the man on the other side of the table. Mark's eyes narrowed.

"What are you some kinda virgin?" he mocked.

"N-no not really. So why are you here and not just waking up with her or the brunette or something ?" Tony asked quickly.

"I tried to tell the 'ass girl' that she should accompany me to my apartment. She got all high and mighty and said no like she was some kind of hot shit. I saw her and the vampire slut leave a little later and I thought I might be able to show them to their car before they left. Show them I'm hot _and_ a gentlemen. The brunette tried to kiss me and the Goth got jealous and the cops got called. Now I'm here." DiNozzo could not believe the lies this man was telling him.

"They sound hot. Who wouldn't want to see a cat fight?"

"Exactly ! All over _me_ too." Mark gloated. Tony glanced discreetly at his watch. He wanted this to be over, now. He opened the folder he'd left sitting on the table with gravity.

"Unfortunately, that's not quite how she reported it. You know she wants to keep you here right?" Mark's previous scowl returned.

"Tell that bitch to shut her mouth! She had her chance to be with me yesterday. Send her in here and I'll let her know myself."

"Her 'vampire' friend wasn't very nice either, called you all sorts of names. She said, and I quote, no one would willingly sleep with that loser." Mark's face darkened into an ugly shade of red. His foot started to tap the floor in an unsteady rhythm.

"Why would they say that if you were being a gentleman last night?" Tony worked very hard to keep his character as weak and serious as he could. Mark's foot tapped a little harder on the ground as his face and neck continued to gather color.

"The Goth woman reported that you assaulted her and her friend last night in the parking lot of your work place. Is this true?" There was a beat of silence before Mark answered.

"Did she just walk in here today and tell you that?" Tony nodded.

"You're a liar." Mark leaned back in his seat, smug with his knowledge. Tony tried to look incredulous.

"What do you mean? Why would I lie to you?"

"There's no way that bitch came in to the station and said anything to you today." Tony dramatically glanced to the two way mirror and back at Mark.

"How can you be so sure? I got in this morning and the agent that interrogated you earlier told me that two young women were assaulted in a parking lot and wanted to file a report. He took the brunette's information and I took the other woman's. She quite clearly said that you, and I quote ' some worthless, ugly piece of shit attacked my friend in the parking lot and I fought him off, end quote. Then she went on to describe the fight. I'm surprised she got the best of you, you're not a small guy. Do you want any more of the report? The rest is just a description of events and more name calling." Tony was almost surprised at how easily Mark was eating up his innocent nerdy officer act. He had to remember to thank McGee for all the material. Mark's nostrils flared before he started at Tony.

"You're still lying! The only way that bitch came in here today was by stretcher or body bag. No little girl beat me up in a parking lot!" he stood abruptly, the chair clattering to the floor. Tony nervously ran his fingers through his hair and tapped the page in the folder from which he'd been reading.

"Th-the report says both women walked in on their own accord. You should s-sit down Mr. Spencer. There's no reason t-to ..." Tony stammered. Mark ignored him.

"It cannot be written down that some bitch beat me in a fight. I stabbed her for God's sake! She bled everywhere. I should file a report for defamation of character! I..." Gibbs burst through the door and overpowered Mark roughly.

"Mark Spencer you are under arrest for assault with a deadly weapon." Gibbs read him his rights while he roughly cuffed him and moved him to the door. Tony had to use all of his strength to keep from laughing at the surprised look of Mark's face.

* * *

"Abby can you hear me?" he asked gently as he felt her head for injuries. She answered an affirmative between short, cautious breaths.

"Are you hurt?" Ducky saw her eyes gaze up to his, her mouth drawn into a tight line. "Any more than before?" he amended at her silence. She slowly shook her head from side to side to answer the negative.

"I'm fine," she whispered. With great effort, she convinced herself to get up from the floor one shaky movement at a time. Ducky and Sarah worked as one to gently lift her from the tiles and carpet and into the warm bed across the room. To Abby's credit, she kept her noises of discomfort to a minimum as her two friends jostled her about. Tears of relief watered Abby's blood shot eyes when she felt her body make contact with her favorite place to sleep. Ducky wiped a wet lock of hair from the young woman's brow and accepted the fluffy towel Sarah was handing him. Ducky worked the towel gently over her face and head, checking again for any missed injuries from the most recent fall. On the other side of the bed, Sarah stealthily crawled to Abby's other side and dried her wet body. To her relief, Abby's skin was cooler to the touch. Just as she turned her head to ask Ducky if the bath had been able to help at all, she watched Ducky pull the thermometer out of their patient's ear. His tight smile assured her they were back in safer waters and she continued to tenderly dry Abby's injured body.

"Abby are you still awake?" Ducky ventured into the quiet room. Her eyes, made small with pain and a slightly lower fever, gazed at his mouth before they settled on his eyes. Abby barely got the whispered yes out of her mouth before she sneezed. White and pink explosions flashed in front of her eyes and she was left watching blue and green stars as her vision cleared. Out of habit Ducky sent out a hasty "bless you." As soon as the salutation was made he nearly bit his tongue.

"Abby..." her eyes glanced at his before they closed again and she leaned into the pillows they'd assembled to keep her more upright. Ducky was surprised to find a glitter of humor before he realized she was drifting off.

"Wait Abigail. Just a few more moments of your time please." Abby's eyes drifted back open and she stared at the unlikely pair of Sarah and Ducky through half lidded, jade slits. Cautiously, Ducky rechecked her stab wound and found that it had started to bleed again.

"Abby, are you shaking because you're cold or from something else?" Sarah asked, her voice small. Abby gave the girl her full attention and attempted a half smile.

"Not sure, " she breathed in reply.

"Can't we slip a t-shirt or something on her Ducky?" Ducky was worrying about the wound and hadn't taken in Abby's apparel, or lack thereof, before he'd begun to treat the wound. A light blush covered the apples of his cheeks.

"Let me replace her bandage first. Then I'll leave you to help her into something less wet and more appropriate." Sarah nodded in reply and moved to find something comfortable in the deep drawers of the dresser. She shook her head at the amount of clothing the woman owned. A very familiar shirt resting on the top of a stack in the bottom drawer, grabbed her attention. Tim's red MIT shirt laid proudly on a stack of his clothing, reminding her once again that Abby was someone truly special. Sarah remembered the shirt as his first ever 'college' shirt. Her parents has purchased it for him the day they'd moved him into the dorms. They declared him an official MIT students when he'd slipped it on for their family picture. The memory of the day stung at her eyes and she blinked back tears as she pulled the shirt and a pair of Tim's gym shorts out of the drawer.

"I'm so sorry Timmy," she whispered into the shirt as it hung limply in her small arms.


	11. Chapter 10: Where to begin?

Author's Note:

Yea! another chapter! This should be wrapped up here soon. I'm trying to find an ending I'm happy with. All of them so far leave me unsatisfied. I'll keep working. Thank you so much for your continued support. Each review and story alert is a huge deal and puts a smile on my face. See you soon!

* * *

"Why is Mr. Spencer waiting in Interrogation Bay 3, Agent Gibbs?" Director Vance asked wearily. Every time he'd had to talk to Gibbs lately, it occurred to him that this man had been the cause of his first set of grey hairs. Gibbs nearly glared at the director out of spite. He was holding him from someone he really wanted to get to know better. Before Gibbs could answer Vance spoke again.

"Does this have anything to do with Ms. Scuito's absence?" Gibbs stiffly nodded his head.

"Is she all right?" Gibbs nodded, though the uncertainty in his face startled his boss. "Safe at least?" he questioned further.

"Yes. She's at home and Dr. Mallard is with her." Vance tapped his fingers together briefly before giving a hard look to his agent.

"Was there a definite act against her that has not been handled by city police?" Gibbs sighed heavily but answered anyway.

"Yes, she was attacked in a parking lot last night. City police have not gathered a suspect." He casually left off the fact that she hadn't reported the crime to anyone officially. Vance gave him a single nod.

"You and your team are to investigate Ms. Scuito's attack until the attacker is brought to justice. Just please remember, that justice cannot be served by the dead." Gibbs grimly accepted the hidden orders and turned to leave Vance's office.

"Thanks," he grunted without stopping.

"Give Abby my sentiments," Vance said softly as he buzzed his secretary to clear his schedule after 5:30.

David, McGee, and DiNozzo sat nervously in the center of their little section of office. They had begun at their own desks but had eventually drifted towards one another as they waited for Gibbs to return after the summons from Vance. Gibbs had them agree to keep their work on hold until he returned, so here they sat, each drawing a measure of comfort from being around their extended family.

"Have you heard anything from Ducky?" DiNozzo ventured quietly into the silence. McGee and Ziva shook their heads solemnly.

"I've been trying to not to hound Ducky this afternoon," he muttered. His two friends nodded in agreement and went back to their thoughts.

"Put those away and come here," Gibbs snapped as he went to sit at his desk. The three agents smiled as they realized they had unconsciously and simultaneously pulled out their phones to dial the ME.

"We have the 'official' go ahead," Gibbs started with a roll of his eyes. His three agents raised their brows at the anger that laced his words.

"What did you two find?" he growled at Ziva and McGee. They explained the evidence that they'd gathered and the interview with Green. He found the club owner's willingness to cooperate slightly unsettling also but decided to deal with it later. It did explain the large bruises on Spencer's face that he'd made sure were documented before he and DiNozzo interrogated him. In turn, he had DiNozzo explain the interview and confession from Mark. McGee and Ziva's eyes darkened considerably.

"What shall we do with our suspect," Ziva asked with a cold voice.

"I'm going to let him go," Gibbs said firmly.

* * *

Sarah let out a tired sigh as she flopped onto the giant couch.

"I couldn't agreed more, " Ducky responded form the chair across from her. "Drink that," he pointed to the steaming cup of tea on the coffee table. Sarah picked up the cup and wrapped her fingers around the circumference, relishing in the warmth the cup offered. They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes.

"Abby is asleep. She was out before I finished slipping on her shorts."

"I'm sure she was. I've slipped pain medication and a sleep aid into her IV," Ducky answered as he lazily stirred his tea.

"I thought she requested to be without drugs," Sarah asked with concern.

"She did, but as her doctor I have to decide when a request is feasible. This was not. Her body needs rest and it was not going to get it without those drugs. She needs them almost as much as the antibiotics," Ducky answered. Sarah grunted in reply and leaned back into the couch. She'd thought a lot about what had happened over the last 18 hours while she'd cleaned the water and blood from Abby's floor. She stared at her index finger, the skin still glowing a bright pink. Abby's blood had been on there not twenty minutes ago when her hand had brushed over the towel she'd used to clean the bathroom floor. Instinctively, she'd dropped the towel and moved to wash her hands in the sink, but the longer she thought about the blood on her hand the more she tortured herself with the idea that the bloodshed had been her fault. At present, those thoughts began to swirl in Sarah's young mind again and she was forced to set down her cup of tea and rush to the bathroom to relieve her stomach of its contents. After setting herself to rights, she returned to the markedly worried face of Ducky and a different cup of tea on the coffee table.

"Are you all right," Ducky asked quietly. Sarah blinked at him a few times before nodding her head and returning to the couch.

"Drink that ginger tea. It's good for upset stomachs." Ducky's concern brought a smile to her lips and she realized she had nothing to gain from keeping anymore secrets. Her thin fingers grasped the cup and she brought some of the spicy, sweet liquid to her mouth. It did wonders to take the remaining taste of bile out of her mouth.

"I..." she started.

"You don't have to talk to me unless you want to," Ducky interrupted before she could continue. She took another sip of tea.

"I understand." Three minutes of silence passed between them, both preparing themselves for the conversation to come.

* * *

"You're going to what!" DiNozzo hissed.

"I'm going to release him," Gibbs answered flatly. His eyes were nearly navy blue and stared uncomfortably at DiNozzo.

"Boss..." his oldest agent began.

"No, DiNozzo. This has to happen," McGee cut in. DiNozzo turned incredulous eyes on him. Ziva's hand smothered his mouth before he let loose on McGee as her colleague's words sank in. McGee looked into DiNozzo's slowly reddening face.

"We don't have any legal reason to keep Spencer here. As long as Abby or Sarah don't have an officially filed report, there isn't a crime that we can arrest him on. Even with the confession," he added as Ziva opened her mouth to protest. DiNozzo forcefully removed Ziva's hand from his face and glared at her, then the rest of the group.

"I'll tail hm." His statement left no room for argument. Gibbs had to bite back on his admiration. It seemed his boys may have found some balls after all.

"I shall accompany you." Ziva would not accept no as an answer wither. Gibbs smiled at her. He already knew she had balls of steel. He eyed McGee.

"What about you, McGee?" McGee was not dumb. He knew that as soon as Spencer was released they could follow him and should they get into an altercation, it could be overlooked by their fellow law enforcement friends. It was a possibility. There was also the possibility that this idiot could press charges and they'd all be on probation of fired. The biggest possibility to him at the moment however, was the one where he'd be sitting in jail for killing the son of a bitch. He'd never had quite this much anger towards someone and it was beginning to eat at his control rather forcefully. McGee feared that should he be in the situation to show this man some old fashioned justice he may end up serving it to him rather Biblically.

"McGee," Gibbs repeated. He could see the wheels in the other man's head turning and he wasn't sure he liked where they were taking his agenet though he could understand it. Tim shook his head.

"I'm going to take off. I'll check on Abby and see if I can get Sarah to make an official report. I'll call with an update." Stoically, Tim went to his desk to gather his things. He quickly made a few notes to his calendar to mark his early absence to later report to HR and closed a few other windows. He left the three data searches he had running for the case they should have been working on and with a few parting words, he fled to his car. Gibbs, Ziva, and Tony watched him go with trepidation.

"DiNozzo, get the car. I'll let you know when Spencer is out." Gibbs commanded before grabbing his coat. Moments later, the remaining three agents were quiet as the elevator took them to the next step in their long day.

* * *

"I'm really not sure when she started cutting herself," Sarah began after another sip of tea. Ducky bit down on his tongue to remind himself to remain calm. The scars on Abby's forearms and legs were numerous and in different states of healing so it was difficult to tell when they had started in an evidential sense too.

"The scary ones by her wrist though? I think those happened that weekend I got alcohol poisoning, that Halloween weekend. She was really troubled after that weekend."

"What makes you say that?"

"When she was leaving on Sunday, she looked horrible. I have no idea what really happened to be honest, most of that time is extremely fuzzy. I just know that she did not look like herself when she left me Sunday evening." Ducky saw her gaze flicker to Abby's door a few times before she rested her eyes on the dark wood of the floor.

"I…" she stopped briefly as her resolve waivered, but another look at Ducky's surprisingly inviting face made her continue, "I saw her cut at her legs once. I had been visiting her earlier this month…

_Sarah had been hanging around Abby's apartment all day. Abby had been at work for the better part of the day and had just returned. Sarah had fled to her savior's apartment after she began to lose her will power against the alcohol that her 'friends' had dropped off in her own apartment. She'd been bored and had even resorted to school work to keep her mind and hands occupied. Sarah cursed her weaknesses as she put the finishing touches on an essay that was two days overdue._

"_Better late than never," she muttered as she checked it over for a final time and sent it off._

"_Your period?" Sarah screamed and jumped from her seat at the dining room table._

"_Abby! Don't you make noise?" she panted._

"_Hello to you too." Sarah waved and slowly went back to her seat._

"_Sarah what's better late than never? Am I right?" Sarah blushed crimson with embarrassment and anger. Abby knew she's been doing better!_

"_Actually, no. First time for everything, huh?" she snapped hastily. Abby felt the flames of anger lick at her face but she held onto the feeling and simply nodded at the young girl in her kitchen. _

"_Not the first time, no," she answered calmly. Sarah's anger immediately retreated as she heard the defeat in Abby's tone._

"_Abby, I'm sorry. I just finished an essay and turned it in. It was due two days ago." _

"_Oh. Good. I'm glad you're getting your stuff together. Sorry, I jumped to conclusions," Abby smiled at her but Sarah noticed it stopped before it reached her eyes. She opened her mouth to ask what was wrong but Abby had already walked to her bedroom. A moment later Sarah heard the door click into place. She sat there for a moment and processed what had just happened. Obviously, Abby had had a rough day and it was not improved by Sarah's presence. She sighed heavily and chastised herself before looking around the kitchen to start some dinner. It was the least she could do after causing Abby even more grief. She searched through the cupboards and the fridge and was not pleased to find so little. _

"_Well," she said as she raised a questionable looking item from the freezer, "takeout it will be." She threw the unknown object into the trashcan and let her eyes search the front of the fridge. Abby kept all of her take away menus on the refrigerator door so that she wouldn't lose them; also, so that she wouldn't have a naked door. After a few minutes, Sarah had narrowed the choices to a Thai menu and a Greek menu. She grabbed the two and walked towards Abby's closed door. _

"_Abby?" she called. No answer. "Abby?" she called again. Assuming her friend was in the bathroom, Sarah twisted the handle and pushed her way into the room._

"_Abby…' she dropped the papers to the floor and started at the other woman on the floor of her bedroom, shock etched into her young features._

"_Abby, what are you doing?" Sarah asked calmly, quietly. Abby's hands had stilled and a look of sheer frustration morphed her features into an angry mask._

"_I…I lost something under the bed. Do you mind?" Sarah flinched at Abby's tone. _

"_I…"_

"_Don't you even knock?" Abby huffed again. _

"_I called your name, you didn't answer," Sarah said defensively. They stayed in silence for a moment._

"_Should I get some bandages?" Sarah whispered, the situation making her sick to her stomach. Abby glared at her for a moment before looking down at the deep red cuts carefully placed on her skin. The blood from each cut had begun to intermingle and she realized she'd cut a little deeper than she'd meant to cut. She bit at her lips before looking back at the girl in her doorway._

"_No. It's fine. Get out," she answered quietly._

"_But Abby," Sarah argued._

"_Get out." The command left no room for argument and Sarah slammed the door and marched into the living room to think. Shock, anger, worry, and hurt took turns bashing her over the skull and she stewed in the emotions like a wanton duck in a bog. Nearly twenty minutes later, Abby emerged from her bedroom and felt before she saw the eyes of her charge beaming her with unresolved questions. She trudged into the living room and took the seat opposite Sarah's end of the couch._

"_Sarah…"_

"_What the hell just happened?" She demanded instead. Of the choices to remain angry or understanding, Sarah had taken the former by storm. Abby glanced at her and then to the picture of heavily magnified brain matter behind Sarah's head._

"_I…it was an accident Sarah. I fucked up."_

"_You sure did."_

"_I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you. Not when I came in and not when you…came into my room. It's just been a terrible day and I am just…overwhelmed." Sarah glanced at Abby's bent head and saw that her lashes were beaded with water. Surprise erased her anger as her small hand reached for Abby's shoulder. She could feel Abby tense under her touch and could tell she'd wanted to pull away, but gripped her just the same._

"_It's ok. I don't have room to judge you. I was just, surprised." Abby nodded and leaned back to get away from the other's touch. _

"_I don't blame you. You shouldn't have expected to see all that." Sarah let the rejection for her comfort wash over her before she continued. _

"_Does that happen often?" Abby bristled but kept her tone calm._

"_Not at all. Just a slip. Won't happen again," she smiled at Sarah but the younger woman could see the lie. For the sake of their friendship though, she let it pass. They would discuss this later. Sarah briefly returned the smile and Abby could read the distrust in her eyes. She cursed herself for being so transparent and weak. _

"_Well, to change the subject, I'm going to get some things ready to run while I attempt sleep later. If someone knocks on the door, it's the Greek food I chose. It's already paid for and there's an extra piece of baklava in there just for you. You get the tip!" she smirked at her and wondered into her room, pointedly leaving the door open. Sarah stared after her with worry filled eyes just as a loud knock filled the room._

"_Uncle Nick's delivery!"_

* * *

Anthony DiNozzo was not a patient man by nature. He'd had to learn a hell of a lot about it working for Gibbs though. He let the energy of unresolved action roll over him as he and Agent David tailed their least favorite person of the moment. As soon as the taxi had dropped Spencer at home from headquarters, he'd promptly hopped into his own SUV and decided to run the DC streets. He'd visited a gas station, a dry cleaning business, the grocery store, and two private residences, so far. Currently, he was driving back towards his home. DiNozzo hoped he was correct, he was tired of following this loser and it was taking a special brand of will power not to hop out of the car every time they stopped to beat the living shit out of the guy. Ziva shared the feeling but remained much more outwardly calm. To the agent's relief, Spencer seemed to be finished with his errands and was choosing to remain indoors for the time.

"Waiting sucks, " DiNozzo pouted as he leaned back in the seat. Ziva sat forward to keep her eyes on the target.

"Do you think he's going to run?" she asked him quietly. DiNozzo blew at the dust particles floating around in front of him in the hazy evening light of DC's dying sun.

"This guy is dumb. He's also cocky so there is the chance he'll stay here because he thinks he's untouchable. I mean, we released him with a confession."

"But he did just fill up his gas tank, visit a grocery store, and meet with private relations. He may be preparing to sprint," she finished for him. He nodded and she tapped her finger impatiently on the dashboard. Ziva pulled her cell from her pocket and began to dial McGee's number when a loud crunching sound snapped her attention to the driver's side door. DiNozzo sat up quickly and reached to turn the keys in the ignition.

"Shit!"


End file.
